Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

🔥 SOUNDCLOUD DESCRIPTION 🔥

"GENERATION SELFIE: A SARCASTIC ODE"
(Prod. by Dr Mester | Art by Dr Mester

⚠️ WARNING: This is not a song. This is a mirror held up to the digital abyss.

We live in an age where your worth is measured in pixels, your identity reduced to a pose, a filter, a swipe. Anna Uddenberg’s hollow mannequins laugh at us—we became the art.

This track is a eulogy for attention spans, a middle finger to the algorithm, and a dark comedy for anyone who’s ever faked a smile for the ’gram.

FOR FANS OF:

    Death Grips if they hated TikTok

    Bo Burnham’s "Inside" on nihilistic steroids

    Early JPEGMAFIA meets a Twitter thread gone rogue

PLAY IF:

    You’ve ever canceled plans to stay home and post about "self-care."

    Your phone screen time is your most toxic relationship.

    You know "body positivity" is just another market to exploit.

LYRICS PINNED ⬇️
(Tag #DystopianHustle #SatireCore #PostIrony)


LYRICS

"GENERATION SELFIE: A SARCASTIC ODE (10/10 CUT)"
(INTRO)

(Whispered, distorted)
"Smile for the algorithm..."
(VERSE 1)

Yo, welcome to the era of the self-obsessed,
Where the selfie stick’s the modern-day holy confess.
Chicks in yoga pants, call it "artistic expression,"
But it’s just another filter for sexual obsession.
Anna Uddenberg’s sculptures hit the core,
Mirrorin' the truth we scroll past, ignore.

Broken homes, no dads in sight,
Single moms grindin’—God left the fight.
Kids raised on screens, no aim, no direction,
Lost in the void, swipe left for affection.
Dismantle the family, turn from divine,
Now it’s all OnlyFans, pay-per-mind.
(CHORUS x2)

Strike a pose, arch that back, call it yoga,
But it’s bait for the likes—a sad kinda toga.
Men scrollin’, zombies with no ambition,
Feeding the cycle, synthetic nutrition.
(VERSE 2)

Without fathers, we get boys that don’t grow,
Mini-man NPCs, no seeds to sow.
They swipe, they scroll, they consume the tease,
Lost in the fog of digital disease.

And the ladies? Play the role they’ve been sold,
Thinkin’ self-worth’s a thigh gap and gold.
The dismantled nucleus—what a sad creation,
An entire generation raised on inflation.

Demoralized values, lost and misplaced,
A culture obsessed with image, image, face, and waist
Hate God, hate purpose, rebel with no cause,
But what fills the void? Fake love, fake laws.
(CHORUS x2)

Strike a pose, arch that back, call it yoga,
But it’s bait for the likes—a sad kinda toga.
Men scrollin’, zombies with no ambition,
Feeding the cycle, synthetic nutrition.
(BRIDGE)

This ain’t just the ladies—boys are demoralized too,
Chasing shallow fame in a world askew.
Gaming, scrolling, wasting their prime,
Trading real ambition for likes in real-time.
Society’s crumbling under this cheap facade,
Calling it freedom while worshipping the fraud.
(NEW VERSE 3)

@VanitySlays posts "awareness" between thirst traps,
Her activism’s just a merch-selling gap.
"Body positivity"—but only if you’re toned,
The rest get shadow-banned, left unknown.

And the simps? Oh, they fund the decay,
Tipping their rent money just for a "hey."
Influencer temples where souls go to flex, 
Sacrificin’ privacy for the ’gram hex.
(CHORUS x2 – SLOWER, DISTORTED)

Strike a pose... (pose...) arch that back... (back...)
But it’s bait for the likes—a heart attack.
Men scrollin’... (scrollin’...) zombies with no vision,
Feeding the cycle—terminal condition.
(OUTRO)

So here’s the truth, raw and untamed,
A world where family trees got defamed.
No fathers to guide, no mothers to teach,
Just a screen in their hands and a world out of reach.

We’re buildin’ a legacy on shallow foundations,
Lost souls scrollin’ through empty temptations.
Strike a pose, take a pic, call it art,
But deep inside—it’s tearing us apart.

(Beat cuts, then a single notification "ping")

GENERATION SELFIE A SARCASTIC ODE

This sample track from the upcoming debut album is what mental exhaustion sounds like with a beat. “Too Many Tabs” is a danceable breakdown disguised as productivity. A satire for the chronically online, the over-functioning, and the emotionally fragmented.

You’re not lazy.
You’re just buffering.

Lab 210 — masked, anonymous, and emotionally disorganized.

Lyrics:

Loading…
Loading…
Still loading…
Warning: Memory almost full.

⸻

I have 47 tabs open.
One is a recipe.
One is a job application.
One is a meme about frogs
that I can’t close for emotional reasons.
I don’t know where the music is coming from.
But I’m afraid to find out.

⸻

Too many tabs.
Too many thoughts.
Too many clocks counting down in the background.
One of them is crying.
And I think it’s me.

⸻

One tab says “Congratulations!”
One says “Last chance!”
One just says “404.”
I think that one might be my future.
There’s a Google Doc from 2021
that still thinks I’m gonna finish that novel.
Poor thing.

⸻

Too many tabs.
Not enough time.
Too many voices
in browser format.
One of them is crying.
And I muted the wrong one.

⸻

I tried to close one.
But it played a sound.
And now I don’t know where it went.
It’s hiding.
Somewhere behind the calendar.
Like regret.

⸻

Too many tabs.
Too many ghosts.
Too many reminders
that I don’t read articles — I hoard them.
One of them is crying.
And it’s whispering in autoplay.

⸻

System overload.
Please restart.
Please restart.
Please…
just go outside.

Too Many Tabs (One of Them is Crying)

В КЛУБЕ

ПРИВЕТ ЭЛДЖЕЙ ТЫ НЕ ХОЧеШ МНЕ ОТПОЛИРОВАТЬ ХУЙ СВОИМ РОТИКОМ))))

"Naturopath by profession, rhythm-maker by passion. Exploring the deep connections between ancestral wisdom, nutrition, and sound. Funk-infused truths, anything from  fermented beets to delicious raw beats, and messages that challenge the norm."

Space Track Records is the label name solely publishing music by the anonymous artist known only as Lab 210. 

• Lab 210:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/561CpDRVJK6XbasdScUm1W?si=W-l9sdUyRs-0AwBt6iBy6A

https://music.apple.com/us/artist/lab-210/618432138

New tracks tagged #SatireCore