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 turn-arounds      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   And the turnpikes, they may freeze   But they 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 turn-arounds      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      One day I looked into my rear view mirror   And a-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   And said, "Driver, you've been flyin'   And ninety five was the route you were on   It was not the speed limit sign"      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      Yeah, 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