Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know what's makin' me
Day day I'm catchin' 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 a three-piece suit, you gotta gang bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to
And people like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' wallets in the back

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

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 fillin' up a

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

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

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

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

is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way that I'm livin'
Seems I turn I'm assumin' the position
At school I'm gettin' of hearin' the same old thing
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 that I
Unlike you I couldn't afford to at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a pair of Dickey's

So what you're 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 the girls who wouldn't give me a glance

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

Don't go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm 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 a crew

I'm tickin' like a 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 to the club scene
(Somebody me what's goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to dance to a funky
Bouncers makin' enemies for wage
But the first ones to run when the club gets sprayed

Don't 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 rhyme
And they're at the do' like I just entered a fashion show)

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to me in my neighborhood
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 heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies back)

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

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

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