SMFWU

'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

'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 seeing me on thin air

I'm wild for the night, got no plans on getting free

You were instagraming you and now you’re instagraming 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 fucking wit us (you ain’t fucking wit us)

Did it 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-banging, make-them-panties-drop song

I’m show time, I keep it poppin' like some popcorn

Now watch me getting money like a motherfuckin' dot com

This just how you know

When you see me in your city

It’s like everywhere I go, everybody fucking wit me

Yes I’m on top of my game, they all chanting 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 what up? (motherfucker what up)

And if you’re talking to the crew, better know you ain’t fucking wit us (you ain’t fucking wit us)

Did it 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 a kid in the back of the ford taurus, yes,

Waving at some drivers while they scream their 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 life’s my playground, I’m harold with a crayon

Now how the drought so cold, no shrinkage

No size limit on greatness, dinklage

Only getting better bruh, dominate like federer

But if you don’t 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? ‘cause 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!

See me walk up in the room, I’m the same motherfucker what up? (motherfucker what up)

And if you’re talking to the crew, better know you ain’t fucking wit us (you ain’t fucking wit us)

Did it 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 what up?)