Tell me what's the matter with your success ladder
You never end up on top
Fixated on a feeling; high up as the ceiling
When will it ever stop?

Well it's only money; It ain't like honey
Pure as mother nature intends
It's mostly real dirty and about every thirty days
It goes away again

Well success ain't about being better than everyone else
It's about being better than yourself
Well success ain't about being better than everyone else
It's about being better than yourself

She was driving her Mercedes through the streets of Haiti
As everybody stopped and stared
Oh she feels like something; daddy's little pumpkin
A grown-ass woman in a high chair

Took her first-world problems to a third-world person
And asked for a shoulder to cry
She embarrassed herself because a poor person's problem
Is mainly just to try not to die

Well success ain't about being better than everyone else
It's about being better than yourself
Well success ain't about being better than everyone else
It's about being better than yourself