Childish Gambino, Billy Scafuri - Phat People lyrics
Childish Gambino [Donald McKinley Glover Jr.] Edwards, CA, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Childish Gambino, Billy Scafuri - Phat People lyrics]
One, two, three, check it out
On the road to sandwiches and chicken wings
Fat people do phat things
Using salt and pepper for their seasonings
Fat 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 fat too
And my girl so fat that they call her Oprah
I got that green like a bowl of okra
Loose change so fat can't fit my sofa
I head to the bank, call the shit my grocer
It's Sex in the City, get the fat mimosa
Me and B, we fat boys, hang with fat girls
Driving fat toys, fuck Dan Aykroyd
I'm live on a Saturday night
I got two fat girls, I'm doing it right
Like my name John Goodman
I got the fat crib so I'm doing real good
Man and I'm up to no good, man
This is how I get fat, call the shit cooking
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
I tip waitresses, I tip scales
My style is kind of fat 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 fat boy, never been to Bally's
Married to this fat life
Call me Kirstie Alley
Married to the snack life
Counting every calorie
Might just open up a fat 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, homegirl 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
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat 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
On the road to sandwiches and chicken wings
Fat people do phat things
Using salt and pepper for their seasonings
Fat 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 fat too
And my girl so fat that they call her Oprah
I got that green like a bowl of okra
Loose change so fat can't fit my sofa
I head to the bank, call the shit my grocer
It's Sex in the City, get the fat mimosa
Me and B, we fat boys, hang with fat girls
Driving fat toys, fuck Dan Aykroyd
I'm live on a Saturday night
I got two fat girls, I'm doing it right
Like my name John Goodman
I got the fat crib so I'm doing real good
Man and I'm up to no good, man
This is how I get fat, call the shit cooking
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
I tip waitresses, I tip scales
My style is kind of fat 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 fat boy, never been to Bally's
Married to this fat life
Call me Kirstie Alley
Married to the snack life
Counting every calorie
Might just open up a fat 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, homegirl 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
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat things
Fat people do fat 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