Pudge Blunker - Fat Fetish

Описание: Lyrics:

Broadcasted truth from a folding chair,
Back when I ruled that Channel 10 air.
Now it’s memes of me covered in grease,
From a van parked outside Little Caesars, please.

You zoom in close on my stomach folds,
Clip my cough like it’s made of gold.
You say I’m filth, a walking joke—
Then save the frame like it’s bespoke.

You say I’m trash, unclean, obscene,
But you loop my rants like a morphine dream.
You roast the gut, but can't resist—
You're screen-deep in a fetishist.

Fat fetish—love my shame,
You feed your clicks on my name.
Public access punchline king,
But I’m the puppet and the string.
Fat fetish—scroll me raw,
You binge my downfall in awe.
Mock the man, adore the mess—
Your sick obsession is what’s left.

Jamie ditched me for a guy with cash,
Just another day, backstabbed in the back.
But you goons stayed—can’t look away,
Clipping sweat stains and Lysol spray.

“Ride ’Em Cowboy” is dead and gone,
Now it’s just lawsuits and coupons.
You say “he stinks,” say “he’s done,”
But you never mute, you never run.

You tagged me fat. You tagged me gay.
You clipped me cryin’ in a every way.
You spliced my face for your meme routine,
Now I’m a ghost on every screen.

You said I smell like shame and fries,
Then built a forum just to fantasize.
You want me gone—but I’m your god,
Built from diapers, golf clubs, and façade.

Fat fetish—there you go,
Refresh the feed, enjoy the show.
I’m the king of your grotesque lore,
You mock, you cut, then come back for more.
Fat fetish—deep inside,
You hate me most when I don’t hide.
So meme my van and stain my name,
But we both know… you love the shame.