(Verse)
Fore we was anything, fore you could see us
Before we was electric, well that was Prius
Before we ever dreamt it here, its nothing to dream of
Then lets be honest, you did everything, thought this could be us
Now watch me shaking hands on the clock getting demands
Gliding hard right like you seeing me on thin air
And boy out for the night, got no plans on getting freaky
You were Instagraming you and now youre Instagraming me
(Hook)
See me walk up in the room, Im the same motherfucker what up? (Im the same motherfucker)
And if youre talkin then prove, better know you aint fuckin wit us (you aint fuckin wit us)
Get it on our own, they keep telling us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and we say motherfuckers what up? (and we say motherfuckers)
(Verse)
I sing about a song, I rap a rap song
I sing a club banging, make them panties raps on
Im show down, I keep poppin like some popcorn
Now watch me getting money like a motherfuckin ghetto
This just how you know
When you see me in your city
Its like everywhere I go, everybody fuckin wit me
Yes Im outside but my game, they all cheering my name
But I told you if you know me then you know I never change
(Hook)
See me walk up in the room, Im the same motherfucker what up?
And if youre talkin then prove, better know you aint fuckin wit us (you aint fuckin wit us)
Get it on our own, they keep telling us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and we say motherfuckers what up? (motherfuckers what up?)
(Verse)
Its like Im still a kid in the back of the Ford Taurus
Yes, waving at some drivers while they screaming favorite choruses
Now fast forward, my song flashes across the dashboard
Is this the life I asked for? Well fuck it man of course it is
I just needed a mic and a stage I could play on
This lifes my playground, Im hero with a crayon
Now how the drought so cold, no shrinkage
No sales limit on greatness, Dinklage
Only getting better bruh, dominate like fetera
But if you dont like my lyrics send a letter to the editor
His address is Fuck You, street name is Deal Wit It
Make sure you tramp stamp it so I know I still get it
Am I a sellout? Cus every show I sell out
I hang around with fans til they tell me to get the hell out
Middle finger to the haters, tell em shut up
So if you feel that let me hear you say what up!
(Hook)
See me walk up in the room, Im the same motherfucker what up?
And if youre talkin then prove, better know you aint fuckin wit us (you aint fuckin wit us)
Get it on our own, they keep telling us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and we say motherfuckers what up?