[Verse:]
Fore we was anything, fore you could see us
Before we was electric, well that was Prius
Before we ever dreamt it here, it’s nothing to dream of
Then let’s 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 you’re Instagraming me

[Hook:]
See me walk up in the room, I’m the same mother***er what up? (I’m the same mother***er)
And if you’re talkin then prove, better know you ain’t ***in wit us (you ain’t ***in 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 mother***ers what up? (and we say mother***ers)

[Verse:]
I sing about a song, I rap a rap song
I sing a club banging, make them panties raps on
I’m show down, I keep poppin like some popcorn
Now watch me getting money like a mother***in ghetto
This just how you know
When you see me in your city
It’s like everywhere I go, everybody ***in wit me
Yes I’m 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, I’m the same mother***er what up?
And if you’re talkin then prove, better know you ain’t ***in wit us (you ain’t ***in 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 mother***ers what up? (mother***ers what up?)

[Verse:]
It’s like I’m 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 *** 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 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 don’t like my lyrics send a letter to the editor
His address is ‘*** 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, I’m the same mother***er what up?
And if you’re talkin then prove, better know you ain’t ***in wit us (you ain’t ***in 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 mother***ers what up?