Greased Lightnin’ Songtext
von John Travolta

Well, this car is automatic
It′s systematic
It's hydromatic
Why, it′s Greased Lightnin' (Greased Lightnin')

We′ll get some overhead lifters, then some four-barrel quads, oh-yeah
(Keep talking, whoa, keep talking)
Fuel injection cutoff and chrome-plated rods, oh-yeah
(I′ll get the money, I'll kill to get the money)


With a four-speed on the floor, they′ll be waiting at the door
You know that ain't no shit, we′ll be getting lots of tit
Greased Lightnin'
(Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go)

Go, Greased Lightnin′, you're burning up the quarter mile (go)
(Greased Lightnin', go, Greased Lightnin′)
Go, Greased Lightnin′, you're coasting through the heat lap trials (go)
(Greased Lightnin′, go, Greased Lightnin')
You are supreme (uh-huh), the chicks′ll cream (uh-huh), for Greased Lightnin'

(Go)