Lyrics
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
A quarter inch plate of blackened steel, that son of a gun must be for real
I'd love to have a taste of what's inside, there's lots of room for lots of meat to hide
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
A tandem-axle grillin' machine, stolen form a fat kid's dream
Smokestack must be ten feet tall, smoker's paradise, entice us all
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Brisket that don't take a knife, oh my those beans are very nice
I think I'm gonna need some cold ice tea, and another bowl of chili if you please
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Takes a mighty big truck to pull that thing, but the taste is worth the gasoline
If the devil's really into stealin' souls he oughta box this up and offer it to go
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
Hey Wade, ain't that a fine barbecue cooker?
