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Greased Lightnin'

Artist:John Travolta  Album:Grease 

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Why, this car is automatic It's systematic It's hydromatic Why, it's Greased Lightnin'! (Greased Lightnin') We'll get some overhead lifters, some four-barrel quads, oh yeah (Keep talkin', whoa, keep talkin') Fuel injection cut-off and chrome-plated rods, oh yeah (I'll get the money, I'll kill to get the money) With a four-speed on the floor, they'll be waitin' at the door You know that ain't no shit We'll be getting lots of tit In Greased Lightnin' (Go go go go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go) Go Greased Lightnin', you're burnin' up the quarter mile (Greased Lightnin', go Greased Lightnin') Go Greased Lightnin', you're coastin' through the heat lap trials (Greased Lightnin', go Greased Lightnin') You are supreme The chicks'll cream For Greased Lightnin' We'll get some purple french taillights and thirty-inch fins, oh yeah A Palomino dashboard and duel muffler twins, oh yeah With new piston, plugs and shocks I can get off my rocks


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