Traducir a
Twenty hectares of poppies
They yield more than a hundred of wheat
The rubber is already lifted
It is worth more than ground gold
In the Sinaloa mountains
I have all my crops
I was also a sower
And poppy grater
I know them one by one
Any dividing line
I was also a bidder
From greed, the drug
I was born in Guamuchilito
From the state of Durango
But I grew up in Culiacán
Where I am now respected
Export by tons
Dust to the Americans
And up in Huato, it's also windy, buddy.
Don't rack your brains
Nobody has my name
Those who watch my back
Not even the government stops them
In Colombia and California
They call me the Sinaloan
I entertain federals
While they take a hundred kilos off me
I pass them by tons
I already have the path clear
The hook must be thrown
And for that I have style
I ask my God for life
I'll take care of the rest.
Those who want to know me
You can find me in Durango
Culiacán or California
I'm on a RAM of the year
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