My old man used to take me to the track Showed me how to key the top horse Sprinkle in some long shots, he’d say Oh, and son, it takes money to make money
He’d smoke his stoag’, pound his beers Imploring me with his simple wisdom Life is way too short not to... Not to what dad? Just not to
He never played the favorites Even money is like kissin’ your sister And win bets? Well those are for *******
My formula was simple Name + color + number Times the square root of lifetime wins Divided by the odds, plus two
We studied the programs in silence A father and son crack team And usually not on purpose We’d make the same ******* face
I was eleven when I hit my first big one Trifecta box, because I wasn’t a ***** Paid almost two large Never made dad more proud
Steak and lobster on my son! We went to Ruth’s to celebrate I tipped the waiter a hundred And fell asleep on the drive home
It’s been over a decade since And about a dozen girls Always done after they go down twenty Always win, place, and show