| Man, I feel like a superstar
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| In a high powered supercar
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| Shoot for the stars, no stopping me
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| I’m revving up a cacophony
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| Doesn’t matter whatever you offer me
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| Won’t swap it for anything, honestly
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| The road ahead of me’s calling
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| And pole position is where I’ve just got to be
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| I’m an ace in a race, set a pace
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| That’ll take you to a range of places
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| Make you say «Ooh, great, amazing»
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| A trail in my wake as I blaze away
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| ‘cause it’s the way that I make my paper
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| Do me a favour: Get out of my way, bruh
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| Boy racer with places to be
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| So it’s safe to say I’ll see you later
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| Forza Motorsport
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| Will open doors to a sort of ocean port
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| That’ll flow a course from coast to shores
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| The poetry of motion’s yours
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| Saddle up, we’re going on tour
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| You’ll ride astride your chosen horse
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| Through a load of applause
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| Such force
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| You were only supposed to blow the doors
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| Horsepower, galloping gallantly
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| Shoot for the stars, Galileo Galilei
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| Hey! |
| Don’t prang my McClaren, geez
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| The tab to patch up the damage
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| Is grand as your annual salary
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| And apparently you just cannot handle me
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| So hand me the keys as I shoot for the stars
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| Blasting these supercars
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| To a brand new galaxy |