Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

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

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

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease the middle
skin around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the of crack

So the reason for the dirty looks?
Yo, check my in your books
like every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of air
I end up up a questionnaire

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

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

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

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

is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way that I'm livin'
Seems everywhere I I'm assumin' the position
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 they consider me a
I guess I got em scared by the way I dress
Unlike you I couldn't to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So off to the swap meet for a fresh pair of Dickey's

So what you're tellin' me, is now I'm a
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my position's to look?
Get me a fade and a pair of tight
I get a chance with the girls who give me a glance

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

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

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

take a trip to the club scene
(Somebody tell me what's on)
You gotta wear a silk just to dance to a funky song
makin' 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 my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, then you gotta be a dope
(I paid 17.50 to a funky rhyme flow
And they're at the do' like I just entered 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 back for the that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton, so they ran 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 the whole world it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can look like the

Wearin' red, black and green, but they know 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 they ain't gettin'
(Ain't a bitch?)

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