Burn rubber down the highway at night,
A lone motorcycle revving its engine,
He stops and jaws drop, he made all the lights,
Who he was we couldn't imagine.
Jesus Christ stood before his, thorns in his crown,
His air was mighty and high,
He took a deep breath and a beat he laid down,
Speaking truth, son, that ain't no lie.
He said blessed is the leather smooth and black,
For it sustains his nether region,
So that's how he wins these races off track,
A comfy crotch, no angels of legion!


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