WC, the MAAD Circle - Dress Code lyrics

You know what's makin me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit
Unlesss you wanna jacked
Cause in the '90s, y'all
These fools got a set of them thangs
Where if you ain't wearin
A three-piece suit
You gotta gangbang
I walked in a rest', bout to order, and
People starin like a had manure on my pants
Grabbin they purse
Checkin they wallets in the back
And thinkin I'mma rob em
Cause I'm in all black
Yo, my Curduroys are cuffed with
A crease down the middle
Snakeskin around my waist
So my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the package of crack
So what's the reason for the dirty looks?


Yo, check my name in your books
Seem like everytime I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin up a questionnaire
'What's your name?' 'Where
You're goin?' 'Yo
What gang are you from?'
They tell me, "Don't get smart"
And so I play dumb
Cause when I tell em where I stay
It doesn't get better
Live in South Central
They assume you got a jail record
A stereotypical attitude
That if you look like me
You gotta run with a crew
Cause when I step upon the
Scene everybody's gettin petrol
No matter what the color (What's up?)
I'm gettin sweated for my dress code
(Wear a shirt and tie and
Run with the creeps)
(That's why, they dress just like, suckers)
(Ha?, suckers, What?, suckers)

What is this
A prison? I'm buggin off the
Way that I'm livin
Seems everywhere I turn I'm
Assumin the position
At school I'm gettin tired of
Hearin the same old thing
Here come the rickety security
Sweatin me for my earring
I don't carry a gun
Though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em scared by
The way that I dress
Unlike you I couldn't afford to
Shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet
For a fresh pair of Dickey's
So what you're tellin me
Is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the book on how a kid
In my position's supposed to look?

Get me a fade and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls
Who wouldn't give me a glance
A big funny lookin hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes might
Keep me out of scraps
If I made that turn
It might save me some trouble
But I gotta watch my back
On the alert for a squabble
'Don't go here, don't go there
' brothers comin up missin
Got a pocket full of money
And I'm still getttin dissed
Cause it's a scam or a phase of
My life that I'm goin through
If you dress like me
You gotta run with a crew
I'm tickin like a timebomb, ready to explode
Even in my frontyard (What's up)
I'm gettin sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas
No tennis shoes, no hats, no khakis
Alright?)

Let's take a trip to the club scene
(somebody tell me what's goin on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just
To dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin enemies for minimum wage
But they're the first ones to run
When the club gets sprayed
Don't wanna let me in
Because I'm wearin my beeper
And if you're sportin gold
Then you gotta be a dope dealer
(I paid 1750 to hear a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin at the do' like
I just entered a fashion show)
Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood
To keep me in my neighborhood
My hat's to the back
So I must be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back
For the fact that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton
So they ran they pennies back)
Scared of me for what, no, I don't wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man
I'd bail in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole world
It's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress
So I can look like the rest?
Wearin red, black and green
But they don't know what it means
Put on a African medaillon
Now they're down with the team
Perpatratin for a click
First they wouldn't
Now they switched
But they ain't gettin rich
(Ain't that a bitch?)
Go strike a GQ pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my video (For what?)
Cause they didn't like my dress code