T'was last friday night and caught at the light,
Was a Porsche V8 and no cops in sight,

I will try, I will try, I will try with this small motor,
To beat this fat cat, even with its five point oh motor,

As the light goes green and I pull like no joke,
The shark erupts in clouds of tire smoke,

Now Smasher, now Rev-ver, now Stroker, now Blitzin,
These are the names of my four boosted pistons,

Racing ahead I'm the star of the action,
But I sense I'm in trouble when V8 gets traction,

Grabbing second, I hear the RPM's sing,
blow-off valve fart, and the engine ping.

I now hear the roar of the big monster gaining,
All I can do is keep the four-banger straining,

In a second, the shock wave hits with a blast,
And my stickers go flying, now a thing of the past,

Don't bother with third, cause now it's too late,
Just try to act cool, like you can relate,

What's he got in there?! The race was a lock,
long before it started, that motor ain't stock!

Looking up at the taillights as they get smaller,
The driver backs off just to give me a holler,

"You can't win them all," he says in fling,
"Might not win any, you've got a half o' good thing,"

I smiled and revved as he pulled out of sight,
With a c-clamp on the wastegate …it'd been a better night.

T'was the night before Christmas, and at the red light,
was my twin turbo, and not a cop was in sight.

The temptation was there, to smoke-um with pride,
when a budget-model Porsche pulled up right beside.

He looked at me funny, like he thought he could win.
I was gunna make money, so I sneered, and I grinned.

Little did he know I was packing twin turbo force,
big ball bearing bastards, not K24s

The light changed to green, and I smiled with glee,
as the ricer took off, I knew he couldn't see.

I'd try to refrain from smokin' up the cool night,
Just couldn't hold back -- it really felt right.

As I started on second, it spooled before third,
I just knew his half motor must be laying a turd.

We went down the street flyin', and grabin' the gears,
and four short blocks later, he was behind by two years.

From forth came the notion, I'd already won,
he had not a chance, no, not even one!