[ VERSE 1: W.C. ]
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`ma 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)
[ VERSE 2 ]
[ W.C. ]
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?
[ Coolio ]
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?)
[ VERSE 3: W.C. ]
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 17.50 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 G.Q. pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my video (For what?)
Cause they didn`t like my dress code
