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Oh, Mazatlán!
How I miss you, people!
The Cheyenne was heard roaring
Through the lands of Michoacan
Black and smoked glass
Guarded by two cars
From the man who drives it
The laws know nothing
There are rumors around here
"That the Cheyenne is armored"
In Mazatlán they commented
"They came from Tijuana
They had an order
Right to Guadalajara"
The federal government wonders
"Who is that trafficker?
From the Cheyenne of the year
"Do you always have him at the wheel?"
They say he's from Sinaloa
But they don't know the name
And to the friends of Culiacán, Sinaloa
Hard, compete!
Those who know say that
That already owes several deaths
That among them a commander
And also several agents
Some of the competition
And even two or three women
The men who accompany him
They have no names or nicknames
They have your private key
To call each other
They are risking their lives
And if they lose it, there's no other way.
I don't know if he's coming or going now.
I don't know if he's coming or going.
But they saw the Cheyenne
Close to Culiacán
Stop looking for her
He is no longer in Tijuana
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