Lyrics:

I drive a broke-down rig on may-pop tires 40 foot of overload Lotta people say that I'm crazy because I don't know how to take it slow I got a broomstick on the throttle, I gotta rope it up and head right down Non-stop back to Dallas poppin' them west coast turnarounds CHORUS And they call me Speedball, Speedball Tucker, terror of the highway 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, snow may snow, and the turnpikes they may freeze But that don't bother ol' 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 CHORUS One day I looked into my rear-view mirror, and comin' up from behind 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 been flyin' And 95 was the route you was on, it was not the speed limit sign CHORUS CHORUS