fuck my life

Lyrics

[Intro - lo-fi static, warped vinyl crackle, bitter half-spoken vocal]
Yeah, fuck this whole machine
All this fake-ass glitter and sheen
I paid my soul, got pocket lint back
Now I’m laughin’ at the circus in a cheap black track

[Verse 1 - grimy spoken rap over distorted bass, dry kick, venomous delivery]
Labels sell dreams in a plastic wrapper
Suit-and-tie vultures, all talk, no rapture
Every “organic” hit look mass-produced
Every fake smile got the same damn noose
Industry snakes in a gold-plated cage
Clappin’ for the camera, then they rage in the backroom
Cuttin’ up art just to sell a mood
Turn pain into merch and call that “truth”

[Pre-Chorus - tense build, rising synths, stacked sneer vocals]
And I’m sick of the rules, sick of the bait
Sick of the way they monetize hate
Sick of the gatekeepers playin’ God
While the real ones starve and the frauds get applause

[Chorus - explosive, anthemic, distorted guitars and hard drums]
Fuck my life, fuck this stage
Fuck the suits that cage the rage
Fuck the lights, fuck the script
Fuck the whole damn industry, I’m done with it
They sell your soul, then call it art
Break your voice and break your heart
I spit truth while they fake that shine
Yeah, this rotten machine can choke on mine

[Verse 2 - darker, more percussive, punchy cadence with backing shouts]
And YouTube, you thirsty-ass thief with a halo decal
Ran my page through the mud, then you smiled like “all good, pal”
Snatched the reach, buried the spark, fed me crumbs in the dark
Built on creators’ backs, then you act so smart
A worthless copy of a copy, all polished and cold
Playing king of the hill while the real stories go untold
You love the numbers, love the trend, love the easy-to-sell
But you can’t fake a pulse when the whole thing smells like hell

[Pre-Chorus - tense build, layered harmonies, snare rolls]
And I’m sick of the games, sick of the spin
Sick of the way they cash in on skin
Sick of the fake and the polished lie
While the hungry get buried and the loud ones die

[Chorus - bigger, more aggressive, gang vocals, pounding drums]
Fuck my life, fuck this stage
Fuck the suits that cage the rage
Fuck the lights, fuck the script
Fuck the whole damn industry, I’m done with it
They sell your soul, then call it art
Break your voice and break your heart
I spit truth while they fake that shine
Yeah, this rotten machine can choke on mine

[Bridge - stripped back, eerie piano, raw intimate vocal]
Maybe I’m broken, maybe I’m loud
Maybe I’m just the one they won’t allow
But I won’t kneel for a fake-ass crown
I’d rather burn the whole damn house down

[Final Chorus - full-band explosion, shouted ad-libs, chaotic energy]
Fuck my life, fuck this stage
Fuck the suits that cage the rage
Fuck the lights, fuck the script
Fuck the whole damn industry, I’m done with it
They sell your soul, then call it art
Break your voice and break your heart
I spit truth while they fake that shine
Yeah, this rotten machine can choke on mine

[Outro - fading feedback, distant vocal echoes, bitter laugh]
Yeah
Choke on mine
All of you
Choke on mine