Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dress Code , by - Cal Scruby. Release date: 06.03.2016
Song language: English
Dress Code |
| I don’t gotta follow fucking dress code |
| I ain’t never gotta work a desk job |
| Got that Henny in the cup and I’m drinkin' XO |
| (faded faded) |
| Promise I ain’t even tryna flex though |
| No lie, I |
| Straight off the rip |
| Hop out the whip |
| Escort me right to the VIP |
| Woo! |
| You in the line that I skip |
| If I were you I would be pissed |
| If you were me you would be rich |
| She see that gold on my neck |
| See that Rollie on my wrist |
| I suggest you keep a leash on that bitch |
| If you plan on keepin' that bitch, Yeah |
| I don’t wanna you know we don’t save hoes |
| She just chose me that’s how the game go |
| I was in the studio with the fake |
| Then I went to Greystone in the same clothes |
| Now I’m blowing smoke up in my section |
| Try to pass around me, it get intercepted |
| I don’t need a guard for protection |
| I just thank y’all for the blessing |
| Ain’t sell my soul |
| 225 for the eighth that I rolled |
| Flowers are purple my papers are gold |
| That shit look just like the Lakers at home |
| Woah! |
| Smoke it to stay in my zone |
| Oh! |
| She wanna play with the pros |
| We out here ballin' like Stockton, Malone |
| I hit the club then I pick em and roll |
| I don’t gotta follow fucking dress code |
| (Oh my, oh my) |
| I ain’t never gotta work a desk job |
| (No lie, no lie) |
| Got that Henny in the cup and I’m drinkin' XO |
| (oh my, oh my) |
| Promise I ain’t even tryna flex though |
| No lie, I |
| Pick a ride, pick a ride no I can’t choose |
| Pull up at the W you know I can’t lose |
| Why you trippin' over bitches that I ran through |
| They just did it for the bands like Famuel |
| They just want the finny and the Prada |
| Hoodie up top down in the Ferarri |
| Hopped out in the Gucci foamposite with the joggers |
| I ain’t never worked a desk job while I go to college |
| I don’t know, guess I had to grow |
| I was on the Dean’s list, I was on a roll |
| Way before the team had to get it on my own |
| Now we bout to get a ring and we runnin' up the score |
| Yeah we runnin' up the score |
| Don’t you let it get you down |
| Top floor look around me in the clouds |
| Flickin' the cigarette off the balcony |
| Take 45 seconds to hit the ground |
| I’m way up, I stay up, I lay low |
| Cause I know all these bitches wanna end up on the payroll |
| I don’t take in instructive criticism, I ain’t building with em |
| They ain’t working with me, what do they know |
| I go way up on the roof, that’s the truth |
| I could parachute |
| Landing in the rarest coupe |
| In a pair of boots |
| I, bet all these motherfuckers wearing suites can’t stand me |
| I could wear a motherfucking bathrobe to the Grammy’s |
| You Know |
| I don’t gotta follow fucking dress code |
| (Oh my, oh my) |
| I ain’t never gotta work a desk job |
| (No lie, no lie) |
| Got that Henny in the cup and I’m drinkin' XO |
| (Oh my, oh my) |
| Promise I ain’t even tryna flex though |
| No lie, I |