[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]