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The red reveals to my face smoke that clouds
My eyes are the effect of my cigarette I look at the landscape
Distorted in my super charged camera I
Look, I'm suspicious, a dangerous countenance
If the five point seven hand in short spit death
Dressed in lead with that little noise then I
Appearances are deceiving, take care of the water
Mansa I do not wallow in the relative mud no
We are pigs we are not ordinary grasshoppers
I piece them hot if the river sounds it brings stones
If there is no respect for the offense, they cross me, they roar
Submachine guns my code and my name weigh tons
The black Barbona effect arises
Death harasses in Sinaloa and the beard continues to grow
Bosses, colleagues and friends the legacy of the guerrito
We will not drop the job the same people follow
Cooperating the Chango or the Yuwui all the boys
I keep this route I did not deviate from the path the
Betrayals are paid for with death, death postpones more
He doesn't stop and that little friend knows that he owes them
Now with this I say goodbye forging myself a nubla griffin
I pull the cigarette and sigh I lose myself in the smoke
We see friends this is history not just a corrido that
The memory remains while I am alive
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