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Lyrics

I don't wanna bet, but my father wrote a check
That I bet his ass could never cash
He's betting on the eight-ball landing in the side wall
Cold-blooded killer if you ask

But every night he needs me to land himself
A red-three corner pocket at 12 a.m.
Only 12 years old, but I got a hold
Of a pool stick I was gifted from him

Lyrics continue below...

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My father is a betting man
But I got myself a steady hand
He's sitting in the corner with a six-pack of Corona
Betting that his son'll win again

Go get another six-pack, bet I make a comeback
I know that this table's got a lean
Won't you take me fishing, and I wanna try out
For the seventh-grade football team

He'll probably be nothing, but this town's old drunkard
And die on a smoke-stained stool
Right now he's got a bargain that he's taken too far
On his boys game of nine-ball pool

My father was a betting man
But I got myself a steady hand
He's sitting in the corner with a six-pack of Corona
Betting that his son'll win again
My father was a betting man

My father was a betting man
But I got myself a steady hand
He's sitting in the corner with a six-pack of Corona
Betting that his son'll win again

I don't wanna bet, but my daddy wrote a check
That I bet his ass could never cash
He's betting on the eight-ball landing in the side wall
Cold-blooded killer if you ask

Writer(s): Zachary Lane Bryan

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