Luxury Letdown (feat. Dropout Kings)

So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality hits Yeah, yeah (B-b-bounce) So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality hits I used to be optimistic that my life wouldn't fall to shit Now I'm pent up with all this rage Spotlight on my empathy It's centre stage So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality hits Life's a bitch And there's no prenup So suck it up and fuck the world right back 40 stitch In my chest No hits Burn my money bitch Pay attention, right? Where's the lie? You know I don't know 'Cause life's so fucking shit Taste it in my spit Break my fucking lungs And say it right Where's the lie You know I'll just fuckin'... Oh, you think I write for you? Oh, you think I write for you? Oh, you think I write for you? You must be deluded if you conceived I was thinking of Who do you want to see hurt? Choke on the worms in the dirt And the grave your career has left So, you've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality hits Swallow the bitterness All of my disbelief Brush your teeth with my seed My patience has finally run out So cut me up Take my skin as payment My patience has finally run out My patience has finally run out Death before dishonour My patience has finally run out My patience has finally run out Death before dishonour So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality... So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard we (b-b-bounce) So You've got it figured out? You think you're happy now? You'll find how hard reality hits Something just feels so wrong in here I can't See through this (no, you are not yourself) The poison you exhume (no, you are someone else) Killed off all of the beauty (no, you are not yourself) That was planted here to bloom (no, you are someone else) My patience has finally run out So talk your shit I ain't got time for you, uh 40 stitch In my chest, no hits Burn my money, bitch Pay attention, right? Where's the lie? You know I don't know 'cause Life's so fucking shit Taste it in my spit Break my fucking lungs And say it right Where's the lie? You know I'll just fucking Stick it to 'em Fill these body bags with these punks So the plastic don't go to a waste Killed the game I arrived at the funeral just to Spit in its face To the dead bands with their dead trends Tryina make ends meet Without a label force-feeding rotten fruit from a dying tree