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SPEEDBALL TUCKER Jim Croce I drive a broke-down rig on "may-pop" tires Forty foot of overload A lot of people say that 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 Nonstop back to Dallas Poppin' them West Coast turnarounds CHORUS: And 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' in a rig like that You know the rain may blow, the snow may snow The turnpikes, they may freeze But they don't bother old 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 cup full of cold black coffee And a pocketful of West Coast turnarounds (CHORUS) One day I looked into my rear-view mirror And comin' up from behind There was a Georgia state policeman And a hundred dollar fine Well he looked me in the eye as he was writin' me up He said, "Driver, you've been flyin' And ninety-five was the route you were on It was not the speed limit sign." (CHORUS 2X)

    


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