Visor fog, the breath meets dawn, concretes cold, Wolfman's gone
Burn and melt, that Michelin smelt, drag race run, street bets dealt
Run that NOS, eat that Hoss Boss, M109 can't launch or get close
Layer up, lather up, we hunt for rides, and ease up on stunts
Tis the season to ride with reason, pick your spots and warm that rubber up
Slicks come off, hook ups back on, c02 shifter open, chain tight like the ole ladies thong
We race against the clock - in the GTA 2 months we got
Before sleds come out and Kawi's rot
So, for now I want, to eat and hunt, claws are ready, to slash and taunt