My Friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
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Let me tell you why.
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He's the epitome of neighborly.
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My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
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Let me tell y'all why.
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He drips personality.
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My friend Fats, he's a heck of a joe.
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You should watch him go,
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bopping in the bad shine
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with a bota bag of fried wine.
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My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
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Let me tell you why.
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He's lowbrow nobility.
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My friend Fats, he's a jovial sort.
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When he's holding court,
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the anecdotes go round
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and the lager goes down.
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My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
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And just as long as he's high
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he has no anxiety
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about his chemical dependencies.
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Fats has no concerns
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about the candle that burns
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both end simultaneous,
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both end simultaneous.
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My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
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Let me tell y'all why.
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He's not much for punctuality,
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but heck on debauchery.
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Fats, he's a hell of a man,
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can't y'all understand?
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Him taunting his mortality,
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he's unnerved by sobriety.
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My Friend Fats
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Primus |