Dress Code - Cal Scruby

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