Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know makin' me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of slack
you gotta wear a suit, unless you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these got a set of them thangs

Where if you ain't wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to
And people like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they in the back

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all
Yo, my Corduroys are with a crease down the middle
Snake skin around my waist, so my hang a little
But I don't deal the package of

So what's the reason for the looks?
Yo, check my name in your
Seem like time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a of fresh air
I end up up a questionnaire

"What's your name?" "Where goin?"
"Yo, gang are you from?"
tell me "Don't get smart" and so I play dumb
'Cause when I tell em where I stay, it doesn't get

in South Central, they assume you got a jail record
A stereotypical
That if you look like me, you gotta run a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene everybody's gettin'

No matter the color
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my code
(Wear a shirt and tie and run the creeps)

(That's why they dress just suckers)
(Ha?)
(Suckers)
(What?)
(Suckers)

What is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way I'm livin'
Seems everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the
At school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old
come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring

I don't carry a gun, though consider me a threat
I guess I got em scared by the way I dress
you I couldn't afford to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a pair of Dickey's

So what tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the on how a kid in my position's supposed to look?
Get me a fade and a pair of tight
I get a chance with the who wouldn't give me a glance

A big funny lookin' hat to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather might keep me out of scraps
If I that turn, it might save me some trouble
But I gotta watch my back, on the alert for a

Don't go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still getttin'
'Cause it's a scam or a of my life that I'm goin' through
If you dress like me, you gotta run a crew

I'm like a time bomb, ready to explode
Even in my yard
(What's up?)
I'm sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas, no shoes, no hats, no khakis, alright?)

Let's take a to the club scene
(Somebody me what's goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt to dance to a funky song
Bouncers enemies for minimum wage
But they're the first ones to run the club gets sprayed

Don't wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my
And if you're sportin' gold, then you gotta be a dope
(I paid 17.50 to hear a funky rhyme
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I just a fashion show)

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my
My to the back, so I must be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my for the fact that I rap
And they heard I was Compton, so they ran they pennies back)

Scared of me for what, no, I don't tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole it's alright to be yourself
I change the way I dress, so I can look like the rest?

Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't what it means
Put on a African medallion, now they're with the team
Penetratin' for a click, first wouldn't, now they switched
But ain't gettin' rich
(Ain't a bitch?)

Go a GQ pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my
(For what?)
they didn't like my dress code