Two Trackin Six Packin

It was never a race so size didn't matter If the ride was beat we'd just go faster Slippin in the mud. Plowing through a ditch. Sliding around a curve, quick direction switch. Industrial Hill a few cold ones down Looking through the night at the lights of town There was no one to beat. No competition Whether on our way home, or headed out fishin We'd get off the road and have a little fun 2 trackin 6 packin weren't hurtin anyone The 7 nasties down to Fletcher Road We'd call a friend if we had to get towed A haunted graveyard and a bottle of brandy Bogged down in the corner cause it got real sandy Left trail, right trail, gears grinding round We'd stay off the road and keep the hammer down There was no one to beat. No competition. Whether on our way home or headin out fishin We'd get off the road and have a little fun 2 trackin 6 packin wern't hurtin anyone Foot of the gas, pedal hammered A weekend run or a midweek break The oilfield squares, Beaver Creek Range 13, or out to Frog Lake 12 inches of snow a bottomed out Grand Prix A long winter walk for a buddy and me Ghetto Cruiser, Great White Buffalo Danger Ranger, Big Green Boat Wet mudholes and power slides Hittin snow drifts in our beat up rides There was no one to beat. No competition. Whether huntin big bucks or goin ice fishin We'd get off the road and have a little fun 2 trackin 6 packin weren't hurtin anyone 2 trackin 6 packin werent hurtin,,, anyone.