Three Hundred Pounds of Hongry

Three hundred pounds of hongry

Down to the house every Sunday

Boil them taters and butter them buns

Licking that grease right off them thumbs

Three hundred pounds, as tall as he's round

And every pound of that body's so fine

I can hardly believe that it's all mine

Hey, how that three hundred pounds amaze me

When he gets down in the gravy

I'm loving that body, what a soulful dude

When he gets down on that barbecue

Three hundred pounds, as tall as he's round

And every pound of that body's so fine

I can hardly believe that it's all mine, all mine

Everybody asks me why

Do you love a man that's twice your size

Well, don't you know it's the bigger the better

That three hundred pounds sho' 'nuf got it all together

Look at him, Lord, getting those grits

Lovin' him more, the bigger he gets

Now let yourself go, you big old thing

Don't you know I don't care if you weighs a ton

Long as I can butter them buns, your buns, my buns