The Overfed Mobster

My job is hard to take,
It ain't no piece of cake;
I gotta deal with druggies, streetwalkers, and people with loose lips,
But I get by with my .357 under my arm, .45 in my boot, and .38 on my hip.

My employment is a night time gig,
It may suck to some, but it pays big;
My beat, it's something like a cop's,
But I don't stop at no stupid coffee shop.

My favorite hangouts are all right here,
I can smell cheeseburgers and pie in the air;
I eat three or four suppers a night,
Because a big man like me has a healthy appetite.

You may say I'm obese, or I'm way overweight,
But this heaviness was an unbelieveable fate;
When a bullet aimed for my heart was stopped by my fat,
I kiss my blubber daily and give my butt a pat.

Footnote: I am in a competetion with Robert Niswander. He gave me the subject "Mobster". Now it's my turn!