When your engine is hot and your foot hollers drag Get your wheels on the line cause you won't run stag Hold your clutch down tight and rev it up to go You're bout to do business with my mighty G.T.O.
Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) There's no match cause nothin' can catch my G.T.O. Go go G.T.O.
On the way to the strip you know she shows lottsa style And nobody takes her in the quarter mile With three pots on the manifold and lowers on the hood And a competition steering wheel that's made out of wood
Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) There's no match cause nothin' can catch my G.T.O. Go go G.T.O.
Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) There's no match cause nothin' can catch my G.T.O. Go go G.T.O.
If you're looking' for speed you can get your kick's Yeah you can wind her up to sixty in four point six The Sting Ray's and the Cobra's never even show Cause none of 'em can catch me in my mighty G.T.O.
Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) There's no match cause nothin' can catch my G.T.O. Go go G.T.O.
(Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up) Go go go G.T.O. (Rev it up)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
