by Bob Malone
From “The Darkest Part Of The Night” (1996)
My baby’s got me by the appetite
Her good Dixie cookin’s made a faithful man of me
And though her red beans and rice taste twice as nice every night
When I need a midnight snack I say: “baby, put that fryin’ pan back”
Your cookin’s fine but now’s the tine for something better than that
CHORUS
Gimme some of that southern fried lovin’
Extra greasy and hotter than a Creole barbecue
Gimme some of that southern fried lovin’
Feed me till it hurts and then for dessert
I’ll have another piece of you
I’ll make a play for her ettoufeé
And I can’t wait to see them black-eyed peas starin’ up at me
And though her jambalaya sure is fine, it don’t fill me all the way, I say:
“All them spices can’t compete honey, with your kind of heat”
I’m starved for your affection ‘cause baby, you’re my meat
CHORUS
© 1995 Born Too Late Music
