[Hook]
Now the d** don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again
[Verse 1]
Pretty puke puddle that I'm laying in
Phone alarm's going off
f** it though, I'm lyin in
I'm wire thin
I dunno why, I ain't dieting
Maybe it's this vicodin
It's strung me out like a violin
Fiend Simon dialed me in
He's trying to buy a ting
It's mad I used to look down at him
For piping up and firing
Talking to myself, not recognising who's replying
I'm becoming so much like the clients that I've been supplying
f** the sentimental sh**e
I'm mental when I get mortal like
I pop a pill and then spike this b**h
And then f** her until she ain't walking right
My buzz don't last for half a night
My comedown is too hard too fight
Euphoria, she leaves with my endorphins
And I'm forced to keep endorsing
This extortionate emotional support
Even though I know that I'll never get the same high as before
I just keep shovelling this sh** up until my nostrils get sore
Until Si picks me off the floor
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
Skunk, cannabis, about half a cancer stick
Rolled up in a juicy blunt
Slow burner, candlestick
I'm with Uncle Mix, c**aine and a couple of chicks
IPhone for a couple of pics
Couple of lines off a couple of tits
But my life's sh**
Drugs seem like the quickest fix
Temporary escape from the estates
And all the f**ing pricks
That's why I'm in such a rush to take the first hit or first sip
E&J burnt up my throat
f**ing roach burnt up my lip
Then it wears off
And I feel like I'm worse off
Looking out on London bridge
Thinking about throwing myself off
Nah, that's soft
There's better ways that I could feel his wrath
I got loads of gear in my loft
I got loads of pills I can scoff
Is it Smirnoff?
The reason I'm looking like a Goth
f** knows but I'll tell you what
There's blood coming out when I cough
Spent most of my life in the dark
Chasing the light like a moth
Eventually the light will turn off
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Sensing the party's over
I'm not looking over my shoulder
Lucy pulls me closer
f** it I'm bored, let's go, let's ghost her
Sick of all the boasters
Loads of n***as sniffing that Frankie Cocozza
Thinking they the Cosa Nostra
So much talk of toasters
Gold Roleys and roadsters
Hoes that make s** tapes and then become role models on shows and posters (slags)
It's clear the end is nigh
The Mayans, they said so suh
f** it just take me now, I'm done
Lets wrap it up like a samosa
Consultant says they're running out of things to try
The --------- ain't working right, It's only f**ing up my insides
As I document my decline
A famous line just springs to mind
The d** don't work, they make you worse
Every type and every kind
Even one's designed to help you fight just seem so sh**e
And all the side effects they leave you with no life and no respite
No end in sight
But these c*nts, they don't know what it's like
Ask my boy Charlie, he'll tell you straight
Real talk and no hype, like
[Hook]