Sibton loves her Honda like I love ganja,
Sibton "smokes" a V8 like I smoke marijuana,
If I catch Sibton at the light,
She'll know her paint ain't looking right.
Sibton's Honda car is lightweight,
Her car is deadweight,
When the light turns green her engine runs clean,
She's not so keen; all her motor does is sound juddering mean.
My home is the quarter mile,
Racing me isn’t worthwhile,
My 5.8 litre is no cheater,
I make Sibton's two litre look like a beater.
My engine runs on VTEC,
Sibton's engine wants a retirement cheque,
My car is a front wheel drive,
Her rear wheel drive can barely survive.
If Sibton's car isn’t a Type-R,
It isn’t a tight car,
When I race a Mustang,
Its motor goes bang.
Sibton's Honda is designed by the Japanese,
Mine's got the American disease,
She says, "You will never beat my Civic,
Your car already has a manifold tick!"