B is that nigga who get 6 out of 7 lotto numbers right and then the last one is off by exactly one number.
“And the final winning lotto number is thirty-”
*b’s heart races*
*he immediately pictures getting out of a swampy, musty, mold-infested NYC basement and riding on a speed boat like Khaled with two women sitting behind him sipping champagne (the women have ample titty meats and good hygiene)*
*b looks down*
*sees a 36*
*breaks a bottle of Heineken*
*cuts his upper thigh to leave a physical embodiment of the emotional pain he feels*