From the streets of Bogota
To the sidewalks of Miami
It's too far for me
So I stay here
Why would I leave
My beautiful country
To go struggle
In the United States
I have work here
The poppy, the coca
It's not God who makes them
Grow, it's my Dad and me

Goodbye Zapata! Long live Marijuana
For them, death
For us, the Samba

The guerrilla is over
We didn't stand a chance
Armed struggle is fine
When you have no other choice
With the gringos
We found something smarter
We do business
Hand in hand
The banks, the CIA
Are our best clients
The money from coca
Hey, it's still money

Goodbye Che Guevara! Long live Marijuana
For them, death
For us, the Samba

They killed their Indians
And plundered my country
We finally take revenge
Without going into the bush
We become farmers
And Uncle Sam buys
And who is the dealer
Who ruins the planet?
Is it my Dad and me
Or is it the yuppie
Who launders, caramba
All the trafficking money

Goodbye Pancho Villa! Long live Marijuana
For them, death
For us, the Samba

The truth is that
These bastards' children
It suits them a bit
The dope in their ghettos
It mostly kills the poor
The blacks, the bandits
It justifies the cops
It sells guns
But one day the third world
Will also say "Enough"
To the world's misery
And will sing with me

Long live Che Guevara, Zapata, Pancho Villa
For them, death
For us, the Samba

Long live Che Guevara, Zapata and Pancho Villa
For them, death
For us, the Samba

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