Lyrics Mommas Favorite Chair - Token

Mommas Favorite Chair

I sit in my home, butt naked, in my mama’s favorite chair
With a pencil and a pad and a lot of hate to share
With no morals to go through
I just told Glass to produce something I can grab a shit talking pussy’s throat
too
I fiend for anger, I seek the adrenaline more
I treat people like shit to get treated like shit so I can get mad and write
another verse I won’t ever record
Then I get bored and trash 'em and I bet they’re still better than yours
What would I respect you for?
There ain’t no better metaphor to address you more than attention whore
Industry slut, getting plugged like an extension cord by the boss
Now my temper’s like the seven dwarfs, hella short
Never before have I spent my time preaching hate
But I’m a 17 year old who stays inside and eats all day
I ran out of topics so I punch myself 'til I got a bleeding face
Then write a verse to alleviate the freaking pain
Like yeah I got socked in the face, I’m going to the hospital
Really I go to the freezer for a chocolate Popsicle
It’s impossible for me to be social again
All I talk about is rap, and they don’t give a shit
They ain’t amused
Please stop assuming in my grade, I’m cool
I’m a weirdo in all black who everyone hates at school
That’s why when you say you look up to me, I remain confused
The only folks I chill with do it 'cause they think I’ma be famous soon
And y’all wanna give me tips, this that, that this, market like this
I promise you’ll attract masses
Man that’s mad average
I say share my video or I’ll fuckin' kill you, you can hashtag that shit
I start my day with no hesitation
I wake up, watch Sam and Cat, jack off
And I’m medicated to brainwash my generation
I’m 17 with the mentality of a pissed off 40 year old who never made it
My mom calls it ambition, my producer calls it stupid
My teacher calls it «Sit the hell down and stop scaring the students»
My fans call it passion, my friends don’t know I have it, like
My psychologist calls it «Can you please untie me?»
No!
I told you, I wanna be staying in trouble
I’m just mad my engineer said that I ain’t really humble
All I did was rap about being the best, now it’s true
Then told him to «bow down» when I stepped out the booth
What the fuck’s the issue?
You want a fucking tissue?
Cry about it while I fucking hit you
And stop asking to battle, just 'cause I’m a rapper doesn’t mean I love to diss
you
I’ll just continue to punch and kick you like it’s rough jujitsu
When I throw a punch, I ain’t gonna miss you
You’ll end up running away, and I still won’t fuckin' miss you
And ever since I released «Talk To You,» teen girls begun to care for me
But they don’t know I’m just a 40 year old with a rare disease