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