| I was the cutest kid, man, you should’ve seen me
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| People pinched my cheeks, they wanted me on TV
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| When puberty premiered I felt weird and started eating
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| Weight accumulated, never sated, always feeding
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| I was a fat kid… back in the '80s
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| I liked french fries, no aioli, no gravy
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| I wouldn’t share (uh-uh) no matter your name
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| The fatter I became the sadder I sat ashamed
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| Picked last, no friends, called fat at the table
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| My father found no fault because he’s also enabled
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| Food’ll fix it was the ticket but that made matters worse
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| Now I’m the current carrier of a corpulent curse
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| No matter what the dish is only wish is it’s hot
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| Metabolism was malicious, it was slower than sloths
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| Every bite became a burden, every servin' was unnervin'
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| Starving kids in China remind ya you don’t deserve it
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| Too little for larges, too massive for medium
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| People look at me and say «What the fuck are they feedin' him?»
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| They don’t design these dungarees 32 by 28
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| So I’m rolling up my cuffs and I’m feeling overweight
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| Other kids were even bigger but somehow succeeded socially
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| I wanted to be popular obviously wasn’t supposed to be
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| I was hoping we could openly obsess over obesity
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| I’m always losin' weight that’s why I say «You want a piece of me?»
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| Addiction introduction my affliction was fat
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| Wore a shirt when I went swimming, a slimming effect on my flab
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| Locker rooms were lethal tombs, my body would be exposed
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| While they’d creep into the showers, secretly slip on all my clothes
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| In the winter of my years it appears I’m a simple fool
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| Life is in the middle, problems the same as middle school
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| Always feelin' empty even though I’m feelin' full
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| A treat will try to tempt me, it’s deadly, I’m seeing skulls
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| Back in Brooklyn I was broken, I’d watch joggers from the window
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| Never believe it, couldn’t do Wii Fit; |
| I was anemic on Nintendo
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| But then I jogged a single mile, you should’ve seen my dentals
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| My limits were just figments; |
| turns out everything is mental
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| Too little for larges, too massive for medium
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| People look at me and say «What the fuck are they feedin' him?»
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| They don’t design these dungarees 32 by 28
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| So I’m rolling up my cuffs and I’m feeling overweight |