GREASED LIGHTNIN'

Why, this car is automatic It's systematic It's hydromatic Why, it's Greased Lightning It's an overhead driver With a four-wheel carburettor Fuel injection cut-off And chrome-plated rods, yeah With a four-speed on the floor Never waiting at the door You know that even shit Are getting lots of tit With Great Lightning Go Greased Lightning Go, another quarter of a mile Go Greased Lightning You're coasting that bit like a child You're supreme You gypsy queen Greased Lightning We'll get some purple French silk And 30”chromes, yeah A pelomena dash-board And do like a tiger, yeah With pistons, breaks and shocks Going over rocks We goth get bragging She's a real whistle wagon Greased Lightning Go Greased Lightning Go, another quarter of a mile Go Greased Lightning You're coasting that bit like a child You're supreme You gypsy queen Greased Lightning Go Greased Lightning Go, another quarter of a mile Go Greased Lightning You're coasting that bit like a child You're supreme You gypsy queen Greased Lightning (Lightning…)