Pontiac Proud at Warehouse Tire

Sun comin' up over Pontiac town. Coffee in my hand, boots hittin' the

ground. Pullin' up the bay doors, hear that mornin' choir.

Another day of life down at Warehouse Tire. Got trucks rollin' in with their

wheels worn thin. Folks say, "Can you fix her up and make her run

again?" Yeah, we turn wrenches like we're pickin' guitars.

Bringin' old rides back like they're shootin' stars. Down at Warehouse Tire,

we keep this town rollin'. From the dirt roads rumblin' to the highways glowin'.

If your tread runs low or your dreams need fire. Bring your ride