She Thinks My Grits Are Greasy

🎶 [Verse 1] She came in hot like a skillet in July Wore short shorts and a look said “testify” I said, “Ma’am, you hungry?” — she bit her lip Said, “I’m starvin’ for somethin’ that drips.” I brought her biscuits with a side of charm She said, “Boy, I like a man with farmer’s arms” Then she leaned in close with her tongue half out Whispered, “You the kinda meal I heard about” 🎵 [Chorus] She thinks my grits are greasy Says my butter’s bold She don’t do clean or easy She likes her cornbread cold She don’t want no avocado toast No kale, no sprout, no green She wants gravy stains on motel sheets And sausage in between her cheeks 🎶 [Verse 2] She don’t do brunch unless there’s bourbon in her cup Says her eggs ain’t over easy — they’re just beat the hell up She rides my tractor just for kicks Then climbs off slow like she’s showin’ tricks I said, “Girl, that ain’t a spatula, that’s my belt” She said, “Then bend me over somethin’ that melts.” I ain’t no chef but I serve with pride My secret recipe's been deep-fried twice 🎵 [Chorus] She thinks my grits are greasy Says my sausage sings She moans like she’s in Sunday church While doin’ filthy things She don’t care ‘bout caviar Or vegan bougie flair She wants hotcakes off a tailgate And syrup in her hair 🔥 [Bridge] We fogged up the fridge We rocked the deep fryer She left claw marks on the oven door And licked grease off the wire She don’t fake her hunger She don’t bless the plate She said, “Every meal with you, baby, feels like gainin’ weight.” 🎵 [Final Chorus] She thinks my grits are greasy Says my skillet’s thick She wants a man who smells like smoke And knows just how to stick She don’t need no fine cuisine Or candles on a stand She wants grit, grease, sweat, and sin Served fresh by a filthy man