Letras
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Loves to wash it down with a Fightin' Cock kicker
Just layin' on that big ass, clickin' that clicker, Lord
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Yeah, her ex-old man was a guitar picker
Then, Lord, he likely blew his ticker
He couldn't keep the fridge full of Colt .45
When the booze ran out, she sent him packin'
Went lookin' for a man with corporate backin'
Fat lips smackin' underneath that big beehive
Yeah, she got a pocketbook full of cigarettes and Snickers
She got room on her rump for a big bumper sticker
I'm just glad if it don't say, "Honk if I'm ugly and fat"
'Cause if I had I horn, I'd have to blow it
And she'd say, "Kiss my ass", and then she'd show it
And I rather go blind than look at somethin' like that
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Loves to wash it down with a Fightin' Cock kicker
Just layin' on her drunk ass, clickin' that clicker, Lord
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Yeah, it's been three weeks since she changed them knickers
And all she wants to do is drink and bicker
Hell, I'd hose her down, and she'd just brush her tooth
She loves Bon-Bons, Ding-Dongs, birthday cakes
A wig-wearin', walkin-talkin' big earthquake
Ah, she ran off, she was gnawin' on a Baby Ruth
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Loves to wash it down with a Fightin' Cock kicker
Just layin' on her drunk ass, clickin' that clicker, Lord
My baby, she loves malt liquor
Yeah, well, my baby, she loves malt liquor