Frank was a contractor, who got up every morining.
Skinn'n cats and fix'n cars, his day was far frm boring.
Souped up Ford, V-8 289, running down those punks was always on his mind.
Frank was a contractor.
Is he after you'
Frank was a contractor.
Is he after you'
Ford was wired for nitro. Canister sat in the back.
Ten inch slicks, ratchet shift, smoke, rubber layed in his tracks.
Frank didn't like us, just wanted to have some fun.
So we played our music, and he put us on the run.
