Luyện nghe bài hát Fireball Rolled A Seven

Somewhere in South Carolina near a dirt track a shrine
Erected to the memory of a little 'ole friend of
A natural born dauber, car racing was his game
He rolled 'ole number 7 Fireball was his

With the makings of a honker and a of bailing wire
He tied his hopes together and just set tracks on fire
Three hundred on the hood; a big 7 on each door
In his heart a will to win and his foot on the floor

His was a simple one "Stand on it and turn left.
If gonna beat you make him run"
All he knew was ???? and always lead the
rolled a seven and he won.

He took the world 600, the old 5
Bristol, Richmond, Nashville, for the ride
The laid it on him. They'd draft, chart, and sweat.
But Fireball rolled a seven, the that's hard to get.

He had the pole at he won it off the rail.
And he run at Charlotte, 600 miles of Hell.
A sewed up Petty; he was out in front real fast.
A checkered flag was in the bag; would get past.

He was flat out in that back shoot; 3 laps from the start.
When he saw a yellow bumper up and come apart.
A rookie and a shaker, runnin' scared and it all.
A hush on that crowd; number 7 took the wall.

His old skidlid in the hall, the little chargers gone,
To save a friend he it on the line.
His old poncho is and bound, but his memory still lives on.
Fireball rolled a every time.
rolled a seven every time.