[Hook: UK grime MC male, clipped and quick] Same again, two wings, chips, and a can Same again, same chair, same hour, same man Same again, and she's got it in the fryer 'fore I'm through the door Same again, 'cause I never had the bottle to ask for more [Verse 1: fast clipped flow over the hard drums] Half one, depot shutters down, I'm grease up to the wrist Hood up, high road, drizzle, every shop is shut but this Chicken spot, white tiles, one strip light flickerin' blue Laminated menu with a picture of a burger that ain't true And there's her behind the counter, hair tied up with a pen Name tag sayin' Simone, and a look that's sayin' "Him again" Three hundred nights I've walked in there and said the same two words Three hundred nights she's said, "Go on, sit down," and that's all I heard She knows I work the depot, there's a grease mark on my note And I know she's studyin' nursin', there's a textbook by her coat [Hook: clipped and quick] Same again, two wings, chips, and a can Same again, same chair, same hour, same man Same again, and she's got it in the fryer 'fore I'm through the door Same again, 'cause I never had the bottle to ask for more [Verse 2: faster, the strings stabbin'] Every night I practise on the bus home in the glass Mouthin' to my own reflection like a geezer in a class "Fancy dinner?" Nah, too keen. "You come here often?" She works here, bruv Then I get up to the counter, and it's "Same again," and that's enough Mates say I'm a mug, three hundred chicken dinners deep Spent enough on wings to buy a motor I could keep Said, "Just ask her, what's the worst? She says no, you eat somewhere else" I said, "That IS the worst, bruv, that's the worst thing in itself" [Hook: clipped and quick] Same again, two wings, chips, and a can Same again, same chair, same hour, same man Same again, and she's got it in the fryer 'fore I'm through the door Same again, 'cause I never had the bottle to ask for more [Verse 3: slower at first, then he sings one line for the first time] Night three hundred and one, and the rain is comin' sideways Shop's empty, she's wipin' down the counter like it's Friday She's got the tongs out, got the box out, got my order on the go And I hear myself say, "Hold on," and it comes out kind of slow I don't want the same again, I want you on a Sunday She puts the tongs down slow and stares, the fryer hissin' in the back Writes her number on the lid in orange highlighter, and that's that Says, "Took you long enough, you mug," and laughs the way she does "Three hundred nights of chicken, and the answer's what it was" Now it's Sunday dinners, Thursday pictures, all of it brand new And at half one I still walk in and order same again for two [Hook: the sub bass wide open] Same again, two wings, chips, and a can Same again, same chair, same hour, same man Same again, and she's got it in the fryer 'fore I'm through the door Same again, 'cause I never had the bottle to ask for more [End]
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