Phat People

One, two, three, check it out

On the road to sandwiches and chicken wings

Phat people do phat things

Using salt and pepper for their seasonings

Phat people do phat things

Check it out

It's B to the I to the double L-Y

My friends all know I'm not an ordinary guy

I like little things, like chicken wings

BBQ sauce, honey mustard, onion rings

And when my cell phone rings it goes jingle-jing

I say hello, I say hello, I say who this be?

They say it's Fancy Ned, I got a fancy head

I'll eat a fancy ass sandwich on some fancy ass bread

The wait is over, shut up, bend over

I hang with monsters, I chill with Grover

The boy Ebola, my boy phat too

And my girl so phat that they call her Oprah

I got that green like a bowl of okra

Loose change so phat can't fit my sofa

I head to the bank, call the shit my grocer

It's Sex in the City, get the phat mimosa

Me and B, we phat boys, hang with phat girls

Driving phat toys, fuck Dan Aykroyd

I'm live on a Saturday night

I got two phat girls, I'm doing it right

Like my name John Goodman

I got the phat crib so I'm doing real good, man

And I'm up to no good, man

This is how I get phat, call the shit cooking

Phat people do phat things

I tip waitresses, I tip scales

My style is kind of phat like an Orca whale

I'm sipping whole milk as I stare

Thinking I can be your Oprah, you can be my Gayle

Cause I am a phat boy, never been to Bally's

Married to this phat life, call me Kirstie Alley

Married to the snack life, counting every calorie

Might just open up a phat boy art gallery

What else you do, B?

I'll make it easy

What else you do, B?

For girls to squeeze me

I'm phat but my numbers run

Listen son, I'mma show them how it's done

When my swagger weighs a ton

Stickin' straws inside of girls, you can call me the Capri Sun

I make the girls drip, so I guess I eat Gushers

Screaming out yeah like I'm eating out Usher

In your dad's bedroom where I fuck you

Knockin' on the door, so you're screaming out "nothing"

But they all know it's something

You didn't think I'd tear the pussy up, did you pumpkin?

But better and better like Benjamin Button

I hang out with Chester Cheeto

Cooler than the ranch on your Dorito

Hotter than the peppers in your burrito

Getting cheddar and cream, if you know what I mean

Yeah, I know what you mean, home girl mistaken

She think Gambino won't bring home bacon

Or bring home Swiss cheese, my dough got holes

Cause all these hoes want shoes and nice clothes

They want the Macy's, the Neiman Marcus

The Fendi purses, the Gucci parkas

I know you want it, don't get me started

They see Gambino and they act retarded

Phat people do phat things

Eat snacks, mother fucker, eat snacks

Eat snacks, mother fucker, eat snacks

Eat snacks coming out of packs

Guaranteed to put a little fat on your back

Eat snacks

Eat snacks, mother fucker, eat snacks

Eat snacks, mother fucker, eat snacks

Eat snacks coming out of packs

Guaranteed to put a little fat on your back

Eat snacks