A half-macabre smile
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Long rifles, thick bundles
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Filling the hole of the sad emptiness
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Since my little brother has left
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I don't complain about this f*cking life
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There's bad times, there's times up
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Everything depends on my aunt, the white
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Sometimes she stays, sometimes she leaves
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The black Sierra with golden rims
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Over in Las Vegas they see him cruising
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In the bets the casino fears me
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I take thousands off it when I get carried away
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Order bottles, order them washed
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Preferably pretty girls
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That the one with the bundles is still real firm
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And a big shout-out for El Calibre
That the plant keeps on giving
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I never go around sad, I'm always crazy
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Since I was little I jumped on the bull
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We're real rascals, I bet my luck
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Ramón, my homie, let that R roar
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You should never fear death
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You gotta live thinking in the present
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I pop cans with my pals
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Two or three days or a week
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His father is still in Tijuana
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From whom he inherited the balls he carries
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My mind always one step ahead
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Well prepared against the low-lifes
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A half-macabre smile
_____
Long rifles, thick bundles
_____
Filling the hole of the sad emptiness
_____
Since my little brother has left
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It goes clear to heaven, of course