Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

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

Where if you ain't wearin' a suit, you gotta gang bang
I walked in a rest', to order
And starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they wallets in the

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the
Snake around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I deal the package of crack

So what's the for the dirty looks?
Yo, check my name in books
Seem every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of air
I end up up a questionnaire

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

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

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 I turn I'm assumin' the position
At I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old thing
come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring

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

So you're tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my supposed to look?
Get me a and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't me a glance

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

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

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

Let's take a trip to the scene
(Somebody tell me goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to to a funky song
Bouncers makin' enemies for wage
But they're the first ones to run when the club gets

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

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

Scared of me for what, no, I wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd bail in Chuck
to show the whole world it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can like the rest?

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

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