[Intro — spoken] Oi. You hungry, yeah? Nah, I said HUNGRY. None of that granola bollocks. Get the pan on. [Verse 1] Woke up rough with me hair like straw, One sock on and I’ve lost me jaw, Stumbled downstairs like “what’s the move?” Nan said, “Sit down I’ve got summink to prove.” Bacon in the pan going TSSSSSSSS, Sausage looking hench like it trains in the gym, Eggs so fried they’ve got crispy lace, Beans spreading round like they own the place. Mushrooms lurking all wet and suspicious, Tomato on the side pretending it’s nutritious, Toast got butter like a skating rink, One bite in and I can’t even think. [Pre-Chorus] Knife in me left hand, fork in me right, Black pudding staring like it wants a fight, Tea so strong it could tow a truck— Mate, breakfast just turned up. [CHORUS] IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Pile it on the plate, I ain’t had enough! Bacon, beans, sausage lovely stuff, Arteries screaming, “OI MATE, THAT’S ROUGH!” IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Hash brown crispy like council gravel, Two fried eggs and a mug of tea, I’ve eaten six pigs and I feel set free. [Verse 2] Brown sauce? Red sauce? Don’t start a war, Uncle Kev’s been banned from discussing it before, He threw a toast rack back in ’09, Said “Ketchup on bacon is a culinary crime.” Sausage rolled off and escaped me plate, Hit the floor five second rule, too late, Dog came flying like a furry torpedo, Now he’s under the table moving like De Niro. Waitress said, “You want another round?” I said, “Course I do, don’t muck about.” She brought six toast and a bucket of beans, Now my stomach’s making fax machine screams. [Pre-Chorus] Black pudding thick like a hockey puck, Mushroom slid off and got stuck to me cuff, Neighbour looked over like “Mate, you alright?” I said, “Never been better in me bloody life.” [CHORUS] IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Pile it on the plate, I ain’t had enough! Bacon, beans, sausage lovely stuff, Arteries screaming, “OI MATE, THAT’S ROUGH!” IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Hash brown crispy like council gravel, Two fried eggs and a mug of tea, I’ve eaten six pigs and I feel set free. [Bridge — grime breakdown] Oi Two sausage. Three bacon. Four toast. Beans doing laps round the plate like ghosts. Egg on top. Tea on deck. Hash brown hanging off the edge like “bet.” Mushroom? Yeah. Tomato? Fine. But if there’s avocado, I’m calling the police line. [Spoken Interlude] Wait Is that… Is that sourdough? Nah mate. Get out. [Final Chorus — massive pub singalong] IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Built like a breakfast double-decker bus! Grease on me shirt, beans on me shoe, Doctor said “stop” but what does he know, dude? IT’S A FAT ENGLISH FRY UP, BREV! Full English power from below and above! One more sausage, chuck it right there I’ve got HP Sauce in me eyebrow hair! [Outro] Now I’m lying on the sofa, fully deceased, Button on me trousers begging for release, Someone said, “Lunch?” I said, “Don’t be daft…” …then I smelled a bacon sandwich. OI. GET THE PAN BACK ON.
