Stroker Ace was born to race
He had a mean streak ten feet wide
A son of a gun with a taste for fun and more than his share of pride
Take a dirt road curve with the devils nerve and make a car dance across the mud
Hauling shine was his regular line til the track got in his blood
Was a real hot shot, and he bragged a lot, but man, that fool could drive
Cause he loved the feel of the steering wheel and the girls with the bedroom eyes
And in a racing tide or a barroom fight, old Stroker stole the show
A backstretch blazer, a real hell-raiser, and a racetrack Romeo
Mama, lock your daughters up
That wild bunch is back in town
And them little girls get frisky
When they hear that racecar sound
Theyre bringin out the yellow flag
Somebodys brakes have failed
Theres an oil slick on the inside
And a wreck along the rail
You better stand on it, Stroker
Cause a bandits on your tail
Its a downright joy for a country boy when he hears them engines moan
But you gotta hang tough, and it gets real rough when youre out there on your own
Cause theyll push you around, theyll knock you down theyll shove ya up against the wall
And you always know when an engine blows and a man cant win em all
You could push that car just a little too far any Sunday afternoon
And if you break your neck in some damn fool wreck, theyll forget about you soon
But old Stroker Ace was born to race, and its worth all the trying
Just to drink champagne in the Victory Lane and to hear that concrete whine
Stroker, get your dander up
This aint no time to lag
Youve got to make a lap up
If you gonna take that checkered flag
Number ten is closin in to even up the score
Its time to wave bye-bye and put the pedal on the floor
You better stand on it, Stroker
Cause youre blowin off their doors
Blow their doors off, Stroker
Stand on it, son
Ah, you good-lookin devil, you