Phat People

[Verse 1: Billy Scafuri] 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 [Verse 2: Childish Gambino] 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 [Verse 3: Billy Scafuri] 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 [Verse 4: Childish Gambino & Billy Scafuri] 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 [Verse 5: Childish Gambino] 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 [Verse 6: Billy Scafuri] 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 [Verse 7: Childish Gambino] 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 [Outro: Billy Scafuri] 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