What's going on, it's heard on the radios
They're following us, it seems they're enemies
There are several trucks, but we're holding on
My friend and I are coming, but we have good calluses

I put an extended magazine on the horn
I said a Our Father and almost sighed a gram
Through the mirror I saw they were getting closer
They fired several bullets, but none hit

At that moment, honestly, I even laughed
They already knew it wasn't a rehearsal

Through the sunroof, I started shooting
The horn rattled and they hit the glass
I've already taken down one, I only have four left
We stepped on dirt and that's where we failed

My friend, crazy, didn't control the car well
And in a little ditch is where we crashed
Bullets were passing through, my smile faded
And even my life left me

And from 6-2-5
Pure Calle 24, old man
Pure Fuerza Regida
Street Mob shit, my boy
Another fart!

I kept fighting, but they got ahead of me
I had the chest plate, but they pierced it
When I opened the door to get out of the car
My blood among lead and still I kept giving

Now in heaven, I ask for forgiveness for my actions
I'm leaving this life, but they won't go unscathed
So much adrenaline, I no longer felt the punches
Very Tony Montana for the pass he has given me

When I least thought, my arms didn't respond
I fell to the floor weak, honestly, I was crying
My body rests already thrown
To hell where we're going

Street Mob, Rancho Humilde
Lumbre Music

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