| Little deuce coupe, you don’t know
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| you don’t know what I got
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| Well, I’m not braggin', babe,
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| so don’t put me down.
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| But I’ve got the fastest
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| set of wheels in town.
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| When something comes up to me
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| he don’t even try,
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| cos if it had a set of wings, man,
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| I know she could fly.
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| She’s my little deuce coupe,
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| you don’t know what I got.
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| Just a little deuce coupe
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| with a flathead mill,
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| but she’ll walk a Thunderbird
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| like it’s standin' still.
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| She’s ported and relieved,
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| and she’s stroked and bored,
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| she’ll do a hundred and forty
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| in the top end floored.
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| Chorus.
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| She’s got a competition clutch
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| with four on the floor, and
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| she purrs like a kitten
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| till the lake pipes roar.
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| And if that ain’t enough
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| to make you flip your lid,
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| there’s one more thing
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| I’ve got the pink slip, daddy.
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| And comin' off the line,
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| when the light turn green,
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| she blows 'em outta the water
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| like you’ve never seen.
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| I get pushed out of shape,
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| and it’s hard to steer,
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| when I get rubber
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| in all four gears.
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| Chorus. |