Chow down lots at Rustlers,
Those floury hot cross buns.
Porky laden treats get a big old Whopper®,
It's a drool chewin' meal on a bun.
Yeah, he's big, rotund, as he spans one ton,
Can no longer make the hungry pause.
And when a bad stroke gets up a lather one night,
It's the price that those Slim Jims® cost, thus, the cause,
More buffet...

They're so snug his bloomer pants scrape,
Nothin' fits over his skin,
It's so cruel the task offin' those old Wranglers®,
So now don't stress the pounds get slim.

(A tub a grub - now eat-eat-eat eat-eat!)

Well, gotta mouth he be jammin' all he can deploy,
He say he's lookin' for to grease his chin.
He be a drool spewin' boy,
So have some chili, enjoy,
And some down home chitterlin's.
Smelled some cookin' Burger King® down there on 7TH street,
He's slidin' down non-stop cattle snacks,
Feel weak so look he for yummy,
To rebound his tummy,
So he run to get some honey snacks.
His heavy body's way packed, don't ya know?

And he just loves those super pancakes,
He does spit drip on his chin,
As they turn the gas on that stovetop range there,
Bet you can't guess the pounds on him.

(A tub a grub - now eat-eat-eat eat-eat!)

Well he rushed all that he could consume,
Skinny's not stoppin' him seein' his feet.
He's a glutton, then some,
Calzoni carts, he's one quick study,
That's one goal for the big man's treat.
Yeah, round his gut takes about a hundred paces,
And then if not, take a couple more.
And he never would leave
A chunk of dinner don't you worry,
No fat trim did ignore, just no way...

Food's a "drug" he cannot escape,
He just fits under his skin,
he's so full of ass that I'd place a wager,
It could just make the sun go dim.

(Spoken)

Yeah, get slim lose the fat,
Find out 'bout Jack Sprat.
And that's not hustlin' heaps of food to chew,
Even if you do get a twelve piece combo made for you.

So just chug those super size shakes,
You can't quit growin' more chins,
You can't pull your ass out an old Ford Ranger®,
And you can't dress it down to slim.