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 got a set of them thangs

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

And I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the
Snake skin around my waist, so my pants a little
But I don't the package of crack

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

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

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

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

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

What is this, a prison? I'm off the way that I'm livin'
everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the position
At I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old thing
Here 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 that I
you I couldn't afford to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a fresh of Dickey's

So you're 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 of tight pants
I get a chance with the who wouldn't give me a glance

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

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

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

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

wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, you gotta be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to hear a funky flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I entered a fashion show)

Yo, put a curfew 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 heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies back)

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

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

Go strike a GQ pose, I got in my stroll
So ban my video
(For what?)
'Cause they like my dress code