Pull Up Your Pants

You aint gon loiter here. Hanging around with your friends. Smoking weed and blunts, To dump near my doorstep. And pull up your pants. You aint gon loiter not today or here. I maybe your neighbor, But let me make this clear... I've seen enough cracks displayed on backs, And you should have more respect than that. Pull up your pants. I don't care who shows interest, And what's in style. Or you telling me you've known me for awhile. You aint no child at least not to see. So don't try to use that philosophy on me. Pull up your pants. Whatever it is you think you can do, You aint doing that here believing I approve. I don't nor will I permit it to excuse. I want you, the other dudes and your girlfriends too, To pull up your pants, cover your breats. And show me some respect like I've asked from you. 'What we're doing is now legal.' And you know what's sad about that? 'No mistuh, what? ' I remember talking back to an adult, Was thought to be a crime. 'Dayum! Comeon, ya'll. Let's split. This old man is giving us hints, He aint only old... But he can talk to the dead. And I aint 'bout to lose my 'high', With his eyes staring at me like that. Did you hear what he said? He remembers when talking to old people, Was a crime? ' I said 'ADULTS' idiot. 'What's the difference? Aint none of them around anymore.'