Dress Code (Remix) WC and the MAAD Circle
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Dress Code (Remix)" by WC and the MAAD Circle. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1: WC]
You know what's makin' me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this slack
It seems you gotta wear a suit, unlesss you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these fools got it set up and 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 every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' out a questionnaire
'What's your name?' 'Where you 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 up on the scene everybody's gettin' petrol
No matter what the color (What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
You know what's makin' me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this slack
It seems you gotta wear a suit, unlesss you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these fools got it set up and 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 every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' out a questionnaire
'What's your name?' 'Where you 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 up on the scene everybody's gettin' petrol
No matter what the color (What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
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