Marcia Ball - Three Hundred Pounds of Hongry lyrics

Three hundred pounds of hongry Down to the house every Sunday Boil them taters and bu*ter 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 bu*ter them buns, your buns, my buns