I've got a customized hearse with razor edged fins A fifty-seven Caddilac thats blacker than sin It's got a four-fifty-four and spikes on the grill I've got a license to drive, I've got a license to kill Cruising down main street on a saturday night See some small town muscle head out looking for a fight Screech around the corner by the local malt shop Take out all the hicks and a couple of jocks
Headlights pin you down with fear Screeching rubber's the last thing you'll hear Sudden impact's all you'll feel As you're crumpled under my wheels
Back in the city there's lots more prey And if looks like things are going my way See a big flock of yuppies at the art bar uptown Jump the curb on Lake Street and run em all down
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