Hot rod coupe on a Friday night At the fairground strip One more beer will get me set For my quarter-mile trip Steering wheel in hand Making my last stand I'm the fastest in the land That's why they call me the king I shut em down With breakneck speed Like no one can Pink slips seem to disappear With a wave of my hand Approach that line Checkered flag up high Check the starting light And it's red, yellow, green and Go! Don't hesitate, accelerate and Go! Tires spin as we begin to Go! Road dust flies into their eyes As the king blows across The finish line Tension's high as we burn the road Like flames from hell Leavin' rubber smokin' hot With a brimstone smell Steering wheel in hand Making my last stand I'm the fastest in the land That's why they call me the king When I reach that line The cops will have to handcuff me Cuz greasers racing on the strip Is a felony Approach that line Checkered flag up high Check the starting light And it's red, yellow, green and Go! Don't hesitate, accelerate and Go! Tires spin as we begin to Go! Road dust flies into their eyes As the king blows across The finish line