I've got a customized hearse with razor edged fins 

A fifty-seven Caddilac thats blacker than sin 

It's got a four-fifty-four and spikes on the grill 

I've got a license to drive, I've got a license to kill 

Cruising down main street on a saturday night 

See some small town muscle head out looking for a fight 

Screech around the corner by the local malt shop 

Take out all the hicks and a couple of jocks 



Headlights pin you down with fear 

Screeching rubber's the last thing you'll hear 

Sudden impact's all you'll feel 

As you're crumpled under my wheels 



Back in the city there's lots more prey 

And if looks like things are going my way 

See a big flock of yuppies at the art bar uptown 

Jump the curb on Lake Street and run em all down