For we was anything, for you could see us Before we was electric, well, that was Prius
Before we ever dreamt it, hell, it's nothing to dream up
Cause let's be honest, you didn't ever think that this could be us
Now watch me shaking hands on the carpet in demand
Sliding hard right, like you're seeing me on Tinder
And I'm wild for the night, got no plans on getting free
You were Instagramming you and now you're Instagramming me
See me walk up in the room, I'm the same motherfucker, what up?
I'm the same motherfucker
And if you're talking to the crew, better know you ain't * with us
You ain't * with us
I did it all on our own, they kept telling us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and they say motherfuckers
What up?
And they say motherfuckers
I sing a pop song, I rap a rock song
I sing a club banger, make them pennies, rap songs
I'm Showtime, I keep it poppin' like some popcorn
Now watch me getting money like a motherfuckin' dot com
That's just how you know when you see me in your city
It's like everywhere I go, everybody fuckin' with me
Yes, I'm on top of my game, they all chantin' my name
But I told you if you know me, then you know I never change
See me walk up in the room, I'm the same motherfucker
You ain't fuckin' with us
And if you're talking to the crew, better know you ain't fuckin' with us
You ain't fuckin' with us
I did it all on our own, they kept telling us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and they say motherfuckers
What up?
Motherfuckers
What up?
It's like I'm still the kid in the back of the Ford Taurus
Waving to some drivers while they scream their favorite choruses
Now fast forward, my song flashes across the dancefloor
Is this the life I asked for?
Well, * it, man, of course it is
I just needed a mic and a stage I could play on
This life's my playground, I'm Harold with a crayon
Now how'd I drive so cold?
No shrinkage, no size limit on greatness
Dinklish
Only gettin' better, dominate like Federer
And if you don't like my lyrics, send a letter to the editor
His address is * you, street name is Dear Wedding
Make sure you tramp stamp it so I know I still get it
Am I a sellout?
Cause every show I sell it to
And hang around with fans that they tell me to get the hell out
Middle finger to the haters, tell them shut up
So if you feel that, let me hear you say what up
You see me walk up in the room, I'm the same motherfucker
What up?
And if you're talkin' to the crew, better know you ain't fuckin' with us
Now you can't see it out on our own
They kept tellin' us no
But now they open up the doors wherever we go
And now we walk up in the room and they say motherfuckers
What up?