𝗠❰ "167 million"💯
Traditional American folk with country-blues elements, mid-tempo shuffle rhythm, deep male baritone lead vocal in the style of Tennessee Ernie Ford’s Sixteen Tons, upright bass and acoustic guitar leading, with light snare brushes, harmonica fills, and a steady “train beat” groove. Backing vocals performed by a trio of female singers in close three-part harmony, responding to the lead lines with call-and-response phrases and sustained chord pads in the choruses, giving a warm, vintage gospel-country flavor.
𝗠❰ "167 million"💯
Traditional American folk with country-blues elements, mid-tempo shuffle rhythm, deep male baritone lead vocal in the style of Tennessee Ernie Ford’s Sixteen Tons, upright bass and acoustic guitar leading, with light snare brushes, harmonica fills, and a steady “train beat” groove. Backing vocals performed by a trio of female singers in close three-part harmony, responding to the lead lines with call-and-response phrases and sustained chord pads in the choruses, giving a warm, vintage gospel-country flavor.
Lyrics
Verse 1
I was born one morning, got a lucky hand,
Scratched the right numbers, richest man in the land.
By the very next evening I was feeling tall,
Buying rounds for strangers, telling ‘em all.
Chorus
🎵 One hundred sixty-seven million, what do you get?
Drunk in a bar, and a night you regret.
St. Pete Beach to a cold jail cell,
I hit the jackpot and went straight to hell. 🎵
Verse 2
Boasted 'bout the money, said “I’ll never be poor,”
Next thing I’m swinging, someone hits the floor.
Tried to kick my rival, but the story got grim,
Missed the man and put my boot on him. (the cop)
Chorus
🎵 One hundred sixty-seven million, what do you get?
Taser to the chest and a lifetime debt.
From a Powerball dream to a bodycam star,
Guess I found out what the real odds are. 🎵
Verse 3
Now the IRS is grinning, lawyer’s on the phone,
Mama says “Boy, you shoulda stayed home.”
Girlfriend Fightmaster’s raising some hell,
We’re both on the docket with a story to sell.
Chorus
🎵 One hundred sixty-seven million, what do you get?
A Florida headline you can’t forget.
Win the big prize, but you can’t buy sense,
That kind of fortune’s just too damn dense. 🎵