Token Momma’s Favorite Chair

I sit in my home, butt naked, in my mommas 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’mma 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 likely

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