A little late but still funny and a good camaro x-mas =P
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the years
Not a mustang was winning, not even with gears.
The camaros were mean by the sound of forced air,
In hopes that a ricer soon would be there.
The boys were laughing at all the inbreds,
While visions of fart cans danced in their heads.
And my girl in her seat, and me the ole chap,
Just heard them rattle their exhaust for a long ricey rap.
When down the street there arose such a clatter,
I looked around to see what was the matter.
I chuckled and laughed to what I just saw,
Was a poor ole ricer being chased by the law.
The moon on the breast of my new girl Mindy,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to skys that were windy.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But yet another ricer, approaching from the rear.
With a car so wrong, so ugly and trick,
I knew in a moment I must show him who's quick.
More ricers were following and so they all came,
I started her up and joined in on their game!
Now First ! now, Second! now, Third I'm not joking!
Tread is flying, as my tires are smoking.
To the top of the gear! to the peak of my horse,
I flew by all of them of course!
As I went back, to feel their pain,
They all were gone, scattered like rain.
So next time you think, you can race me and win,
Wipe off that smile and sh*it eating grin.
I'll be waiting for you, when you try to pass,
Then I'll stomp on pedal and whoop your ass.
So listen to me now, as I drive out of sight,
"I've got one bad ass maro, now you understand right?"
