Luyện nghe bài hát Dress Code

You know what's me mad?
Day after day I'm all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, unless you wanna
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 starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they in the back

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

So what's the reason for the dirty
Yo, my name in your books
Seem every time I slap on my Starter cap
And for a breath of fresh 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 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 like me, you gotta run a crew
'Cause when I upon the scene everybody's gettin' petrol

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)

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

I don't a gun, though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em by the way that I dress
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 tellin' me, is now I'm a
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my position's supposed to
Get me a fade and a pair of tight
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't me a glance

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

go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up missin'
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still getttin'
'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 front
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' for my dress code
(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 shirt just to dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin' enemies for wage
But they're the first to run when the club gets sprayed

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

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my
My hat's to the back, so I be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back for the fact 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
Tailors to show the whole 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 know what it means
Put on a African medallion, now down with the team
Penetratin' for a click, first they wouldn't, now they
But ain't gettin' rich
(Ain't a bitch?)

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