Sometimes she runs,
sometimes she don't.
More than once she's
left me on the side of the road.
The older she gets,
the slower we go.
But there ain't nothin'
wrong with the radio.
She needs a carborator,
a set of plug wires.
She's riden' me around
on four bald tires.
The wipers don't work
and the horn don't blow.
But there ain't nothin'
wrong with the radio.
I've got sixteen speakers
crossing my back dash.
Little bobbing dog
watching every body pass.
Dual antennas whippin' in the wind.
Now, there ain't a country
station that I can't tune in.
She ain't a cadillac,
and she ain't a Rolls
But there ain't nothin
wrong with the radio.
(FIDDLE
SOLO) (8
BARS)
I got stopped by a cop,
late last night.
Outa state tags,
and no tails lights.
He said I oughta run you in,
but I'm letting you go.
Because there ain't nothin'
wrong with your radio.
I got the best lookin girl,
in my home town.
I asked her last night
when I took her out.
Honey tell me what it is
that make me love you so.
She said there ain't nothin'
wrong with your radio.
I've got sixteen speakers
crossing my back dash.
Little bobbing dog watchin'
everybody pass.
Dual antennas
whipin' in the wind.
Oh, there ain't a country
station that I can't tune in.
She ain't a cadillac,
and she ain't a Rolls.
But there ain't nothin'
wrong with the radio.
She ain't a cadillac,
and she ain't a Rolls.
But there ain't nothin'
wrong with the radio. |
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