My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
Let me tell you why.
He's the epitome of neighborly.

My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
Let me tell y'all why.
He drips personality.

My friend Fats, he's a heck of a Joe.
You should watch him go,
Bopping in the band shine
With a bota bag of fried wine.

My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
Let me tell you why.
He's lowbrow nobility.

My friend Fats, he's a jovial sort.
When he's holding court,
The anecdotes go round
And the lager goes down.

My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
And just as long as he's high
He has no anxiety
About his chemical dependencies.

Fats has no concerns
About the candle that burns
Both ends simultaneous,
Both ends simultaneous.

My friend Fats, he's a hell of a guy.
Let me tell y'all why.
Not much for punctuality,
But heck on debauchery.

Fats, he's a hell of a man,
Can't y'all understand.
Him taunting his mortality,
He's unnerved by sobriety.

Copyright: Downtown Music Publishing
Writer(s): LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER