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

Frank was a contractor
Is he after you?
Frank was a contractor
Is he after you?

Frank started the beast Smoke spewed from the trunk
Oil sprated from the hood, that can of nitro junk
The car swelled then exploded, flying across the street
Frank slowly stepped out, staggering to his feet

Frank was a contractor
Is he after you?
Frank was a contractor
Is he after you?

So our story ends, with the psycho contractor guy
Moral of the story is "if Franks around, turn the music down, and you better learn how to run fast"

Frank was a contractor
Is he after you?