Lyrics

(Swing-Intro with horns & upright bass)
[Verse 1]
Hey paisan, lemme tell ya ‘bout a ride,
A little steel angel, she’s my joy and pride.
Not a Caddy, not a Ford, not a fancy coupe —
But when I need to vanish, I know what to do...
[Chorus]
It’s the Punto — mamma mia, she’s tight!
Slips through the alley in the dead of the night.
A whisper on wheels, no questions, no funk,
And don’t you dare open up the trunk...
[Verse 2]
The boys call it “La Bella Piccola,”
Fits three capos and a case of cannola.
She’s low-key, baby, like a nun in disguise,
But she’s seen more secrets than the Pope’s own eyes...
[Bridge]
From Little Italy to Brooklyn Bay,
She’s the silent witness that don’t betray.
Drop off a package? Fuggedaboutit, done.
In and outta Jersey ‘fore you see the sun.
[Chorus]
Oh, Punto — she's tight like omertà,
No squealin’, no peepin’, she knows the law.
Roomy in the back, but don’t press your luck,
It ain’t got no latch — from inside you’re stuck...
[Verse 3]
We called her in when Joey flipped his lip,
She took him for a “ride,” just a little trip.
Now Joey’s missin’, no one gives a fig —
Guess he shouldn’t talked to that Fed with the wig...
[Outro]
So if ya need a favor, or a clean getaway,
Just call Frankie, we’ll be there, capisce? Okay?
No limo, no drama, just a Punto and a plan —
The perfect little helper for a made man!
[Final Chorus – Big Swing Finish]
Punto — don’t make her your foe,
She’s been through more than you’ll ever know.
So raise your glass, give the Don a wink,
And never, never, ask what’s in the trunk...
(horn stab, fade out with “bada bing bada boom” scat like)