She’s mighty mighty
Jus’ lettin’ it all hang out.
Aw, she’s a brick . . . house.
I like ladies stacked, and that’s a fact,
Ain’t holdin’ nothin back.
What kind of a woman is a brick . . . house to you, and are you as wild about her as the Commodores?
She knows she’s built
And knows how to please
Sure’ nuff to knock a strong man to his knees
or…
36
24
36
What a winning hand
Sure, it’s about the looks, but there’s more. It’s the attitude, too.
Sir Mix-a-Lot would beg to differ, unless she’s 5’ 3"
She’s a bad mama jama
Just as bad as she can be
Her body measurements are perfect in every dimension
She’s got a figure that, sho 'nuff, gets attention
She was a fast machine
She kept her motor clean
She was the best damn woman I had ever seen…
[oops, wrong genre]
Classy, my, oh my, she’s classy
She’s put together like an Austin-Healy chassis
with a tan.
I took one look and I was fractured
I tried to walk but I was lame
I tried to talk but I just stuttered
Wh…Wh…What’s yo’ name?
I need a woman 'bout twice my height
Statuesque, raven-tressed, a goddess of the night.
Secret incantations, a candle burning blue,
We’ll consult the spirits, maybe they’ll know what to do…
She was 5 foot 6, two fifteen
A beach blonde mama with a streak of mean
She knew how to knuckle and she knew how to scuffle and fight
And the roller derby program said
That she was built like a 'fridgerator with a head
Her fans called her Tuffy, but all her buddies called her Spike
— “Roller Derby Queen,” Jim Croce
she had hair like jeannie shrimpton
back in 1965
she had legs that never ended
i was halfway paralyzed
she was tall and cool and pretty
and she dressed as black as coal
if she asked me to i’d murder
i would gladly lose my soul
–Behind the Wall of Sleep, the Smithereens
I LIKE BIG BUTTS
and I can not lie
Well she comes from Tallahassee
She’s got a hi-fi chassis
Maybe looks a little sassy
But to me she’s real classy
Yeah my Tallahassee Lassie down in F-L-A
Here’s a lovely lady and so appealing
A sassy, sophisticated, sexy lady
Well I’m twenty six, and you’re eighty
The clock is ticking so you better not front
We can go to my place and we can smoke a blunt
Well you’re a Golden Girl, just like Bea Arthur
Just turn down the lights so we can go farther
What?
I really want to thank you for posting this. I’ve been hearing the line as “Like laid a stack, that’s a fact” which makes no sense whatsoever, and It’s been buggin’ me for 30 years.
So…she’s the one, the only one, built like ablkjadazun.
She’s built like an A-a-mazon!
He stutters cause she so hot!, you see…
Well, um, actually, it says:
“The lady’s stacked, and that’s a fact.”
That fits better, because all the other lyrics in the song are describing the lady in question. It would seem a bit out of place to stick in this one line of the singer stating his preferences 
She got ruby lips, she got shapely hips
Boy she makes ole Roy flip
I got a woman mean as she can be
Sometimes I think she’s almost mean as me
If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
So, from my personal point of view
Get an ugly woman to marry you
Well she might be nasty, she might be fat
But I never met a person who would tell her that
She’s my big blonde bomber, my heavy handed Hackensack mama
Sometimes I love that song, sometimes I hate it. But it always makes me smirk when somebody else is around and looking confused that something this gloriously tacky was ever written. God rest ye Jim.
*You’re built like a car
You got a hubcap
Diamond star halo
You’re built like a car
Oh yeah. *