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Jim Croce - Speedball Tucker lyrics
I drive a broke-down rig with "may-pop" tires Forty foot of overload A lot of people say I'm crazy Because I don't know how to take it slow I got a broomstick on the throttle I got her opened up and head right down Non-stop down to Dallas Poppin' them West Coast turnarounds They call me Speedball Speedball Tucker Terror of the highways And all them other truckers Will tell you that the boy is mad To be drivin' a rig like that You know the rain may blow The snow may snow The turnpikes they may freeze But they don't bother ole Speedball He goin' any damn way he please He got a broomstick on the throttle To keep his throttle foot a-dancin' round WIth a cupful of cold black coffee And a pocketful of West Coast turnarounds They call me Speedball Speedball Tucker Terror of the highways And all them other truckers Will tell you that the boy is mad To be drivin' a rig like that One day I looke into my rear-view mirror And a-comin' up from behind There was a Georgia state policeman And a hundred dollar fine Well he look me in the eye as he was writin' me up And said, "Driver, you been flyin'" And, "Ninety-five is the route you were on It was not the speed limit sign." They call me Speedball Speedball Tucker Terror of the highways And all them other truckers Will tell you that the boy is mad To be drivin' a rig like that They call me Speedball Speedball Tucker Terror of the highways And all them other truckers Will tell you that the boy is mad To be drivin' a rig like that |
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