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 Devil's nerve
And make a car dance across the mud
Haulin' shine was his regular line
'Til the track got in his blood

He was a real hot shot and he bragged a lot
But man, that fool could drive
Cause he loved the feel of a steering wheel and the girls with the bedroom eyes
And in a racing tight or a bar room fight
Old Stroker stole the show
A back street blazer and 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
They bringin out the yellow flag, somebody's brakes have failed
There's an oilslick on the inside and a wreck along the rail
You better stand on it, Stroker, cause a bandit's on your tail.

It's a downright joy for a country boy
When he hears them engines moan
But you gotta hang tough and it gets real rough
When you're out there on your own
Cause they'll push you around, they'll knock you down
When you're up there against the wall
And you always know when an engine blows
That a man can't win 'em all
You could push that car just a little too far any Sunday afternoon
And if you break your neck in some d*** fool's wreck they'd forget about you soon
But old Stroker Ace was born to race and it's worth all the trying
Just to drink champagne in the Victory Lane and to hear that concrete whine

Stroker get your dander up this ain't no time to lag
You've got to make a lap up if you want to take that checkered flag
Number ten is closin' in to even up the score
It's time to wave bye-bye and put the pedal on the floor
You better stand on it Stroker cause you're blowin' off their doors.

Spoken:
Blow their doors off, Stroker. Stand on it, Son. Ah, you good lookin' devil, you.