Low Rider

By Robert W. Cluney

I got a Merc and it's slung low

Man you should see that rascal go

Three hundred horses under the hood

Push down the gas, it feels so good

Hit the brakes without a swerve

Power it down the curve

Hit the straight at one-o-five

Makes you glad that you're alive

A man behind with a big red light

I won't give up without a fight

This machine a cuttin' wind

Rockin' along at a hundred and ten

Old red eye still right behind

Keep it up man, you're doin' fine

Curves 'a comin', gotta' hold my grip

I feel my tires startin' to slip

I'm off the road, headin' for a ditch

I'm either up or down, I'm not sure which

I see the ground and now the sky

My car's all busted and I could cry

When they pulled me out of that mangled wreck

They said I should have broken my neck

I had a broken arm, and a fractured thigh

But I was alive, I don't know why

Now you low riders think you're out of sight

Don't bet your life against a big red light