[Hook]
Yo, I wrote a pointless song, it's all gone wrong
I'm running out of lyrics, yo, I ain't got long
My brain's gone empty and I'm all dried up
I can't rhyme nothing, please wake me up
A pointless song, it's all gone wrong
Yo, I'm running out of lyrics and I ain't got long
I can't do shit and I feel quite rank
My mind's gone blank, was it something I drank?
[Verse 1]
As my eyelids flicker and my bottom lip dribbles
In the middle of this darkness, my book went scribbles
The riddles of this lyricist, think-tank, pessimist
Word specialist but now I don't give a shit
Tired of these egos bluffing, fed up with the girls I was stuffing
And nothing is the point of this verse that I'm huffing
I'm puffing on my cigar
Chatting shit now, but I once was on a par with the rest
And the best of the best, yo, it's not that I'm blessed
But today I got a harsh request
I was asked by a man possessed by the drum
And the hum of the bassline makes me for fun
"Example, I've booked us some studio time
You've got just a few hours to come up with a rhyme"
A whole fucking song with no inspiration
Complication is an understatement, mate
[Hook]
[Verse 2]
I used to have a talent for this rapping
And something could've happened, but now it's just the family clapping
And my friends don't give a shit, not even a little bit
Don't listen when I spit, it's time to quit
And it's not to impress or confess to you
As I speak, I attempt to depress you, fool
Bring stress to your ears as I stretch the rules
React how you want, I can take the balls
This song in particular ain't going very far
Entertain ya? Nah, fuck being popular
Riddims may as well go "blah, blah, blah"
I can't be creative, yo, and still be a recognised star
Never thought it would come to this
I'm on the textual equivalent of slitting my wrist
In the order of life, I'm at the bottom of the list
And my ink's running out now, I won't be missed
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
I admit, I wrote a pointless chat for a pointless track
Though whatever I spit, you punks already spat
You got a point to prove? Well let me point to you
And you can take my place and share your point of view
Yo, whatever you've got, I once had
I used to be good, I'm now bad, a pointless person
Yo, it's so, so sad, see all my best rhymes ended up on your pad
I'm not Jack the Lad
And I'm glad, I can't be fucked to write music
In my world, I was given talent to lose it
Poetical justice, you should never abuse it
And never confuse it, or you're missing the point
I approach every joint with a fresh outlook
But on this pointless song, it was the piss I took
Look, if I'm saying nothing, take my CD back
I'm sorry, I'll be creative on the follow-up track
