Street Clothes

[Intro] And if you ain't down, you better not hang around Let's, let's party at the gym this time The song ain't even came out yet, but fuck it, we gon' remix it right now, know what I mean? I just have to tell these motherfuckers, man, they can't fuck with me with this rap shit I was just sayin' that the other day I'ma show you why niggas can't fuck with me in this rap shit, know what I'm sayin'? Know what I mean? Real shit, know what I mean? [Verse 1] Let's knock another joint out Fly shit I point out proper Swiss vanilla bean ice cream in your mouth I'm pimping her System fucker censor her Expensive fuck solicitor Lash of L shrimp Tempera I'm just a welder Wise word spoke Reflects the knowledge of my elders Yellow gold feral on a figaro Conscious caking Metal on me though it's forbidden I still might hit you with Asalaamu Alaikum Feel these ninja stars reaching you Next time I won't miss trying this Catch you leaking that all star We can keep a fifth Like a bottle of lick Niggas get followed and hit My goons get it fast Quicker than the first lick Turf shit Coward I earth shit Niggas get they skirt lifted Rat packing pussies in they church fits Hustle till I'm dirt rich Basehead buckets and rentals You're now looking at a mogul that's under construction [Chorus] In my street clothes Or a three piece suit Don't matter your bitches still let me beat those Keep keep on frontin and stuntin While I just keep hustlin and hustlin In my street clothes Or a three piece suit Don't matter your bitches still let me beat those Keep keep on frontin and stuntin Well, I just keep hustling and hustling [Verse 2] I'm a dinosaur, vinyl connoisseur This is big league, bitch, not the final four Fill it in your spinal cord, time to record I'm like a iron board, stylish stacks Rolling racks and more Gouda Clouds of Buddha, welcome to the future The twenty-first century human computer My advice is quit trying to fly the hoes Out here looking like apple pie a la mode I could rock South Africa like a Cali show So cold I could make the Central Valley snow Two thousand and something, I'm still 'bout it though My promo poster, me holding the Calico The fiend still asking how much I got it for Okay here's another line for your powdered nose Show some loyalty to the royalty I'm a whole cartel you just a quarter key [Chorus] In my street clothes or a three piece suit Don't matter your bitches still let me beat those Keep keep on frontin' and stuntin' Well, I just keep hustlin' and hustlin' In my street clothes or a three-piece suit Don't matter, your bitches still let me beat those Keep, keep on frontin' and stuntin' Well, I just keep hustlin' and hustlin' [Outro] You know what I mean? That's that one-take shit right there That's how they used to do it back in the days, man There wasn't no punch-ins and shit like that That's real rap, nigga You know what I mean? And I ain't no old nigga either, you feel me? This is real rap Authentic shit Shoutout to Madlib