| There’s a sixty mile limit from a-coast to coast
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| And a highway cop at every cedar post
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| You better slow down brother, slow down
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| Take your foot off of the gas
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| When you hear that sirene begin to moan
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| While you’re goin' fifty in a thirty mile zone
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| You better slow down brother, slow down
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| And don’t give the man any sass
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| If you race the other fellar to the under pass
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| Just kiss yourself goodbye
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| 'Cause if the Lord had really wanted you to go that fast
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| He’d a-give you wings to fly
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| When you see a man reading a highway map
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| Making sixty-five with junior on his lap
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| Then it ain’t no time to take a nap
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| Brother, you better slow down
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| If another car passes and he wants to race
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| And he’s got his arm around his sweety’s waiste
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| You better slow down brother, slow down
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| No use to lean on the horn
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| When you got 'er wide open at ninety-nine
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| On a dead-end road without a warning sign
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| You better slow down brother, slow down
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| 'Cause that’s how angels are born
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| When you see a fellar comin' where the highways cross
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| Just ease up and let him by
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| Don’t you dare to try to beat him
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| Just to show who’s boss
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| 'Cause it might end up in a tie
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| If you’re hittin' on ninety and a-temptin' fate
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| You will soon be knockin' on the golden gate
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| 'Cause them hills and curves are graveyard bait
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| Brother you better slow down
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| Brother you better slow down |