El Velorio De Un Coleto

When I die, I don't want you to cry for me
Throw me a party with drugs and liquors
Let there be shots, buddy, give me a hit
And let all the guys sing my songs

That's how a coleto's wake is
Let the guns sound, let the drums roll
Sisas, cole, claro meto
Why flowers after I'm dead

When I die, put money in my pockets
And a bottle of old parr
And a couple of cigars, to reach heaven like a boss
And if they don't let you in, let the band play

So they give permission to enter paradise
And we continue the party with some coleto angels
But in thongs, babe, we wake up at the beach or in Taganga
Nobody dare cry as Celia Cruz says
Put on sunglasses and close the coffin

The neighbor never misses a funeral and is the first on the bus
Others only come for the wine, make my wake different
Don't hold a novena for me, don't pray the rosary
I just want 9 nights of celebration with the guys in the neighborhood
And don't tell me I left without paying my daily dues

This is for the neighborhoods with ticket books
Don't bring me flowers, don't light candles
And on the way to the cemetery with the meques and the plomes
And let the drummer play my songs

This is for the picture, I want a comparsa of coyas
And a motorcycle caravan and on my tombstone write: Fat 47
Five-point crown and bury me in the area
Where there are only deceased, the grave will begin
Where's the party, buddy? At my grave, sisas cole

When I die, I don't want you to cry for me
Throw me a party with drugs and liquors
Let there be shots, buddy, give me a hit
And let all the guys sing my songs

That's how a coleto's wake is
Let the guns sound, let the drums roll
Sisas, cole, claro meto
Why flowers after I'm dead

Let no one cry for me when I go to the cemetery
My buddy, give the coffin a name
And let Hector Lavoe play, everything has its end
Nothing lasts forever if it's from the heart

Sorry, don't wear black for me
And don't hold a mass when the first month passes
And in the living room, play Fidel, pay me a tribute
At the bar, La 100, a duel of sound systems in the modern

Keep me alive in memory
Because if Saint Peter sends me from heaven to hell over there
They kicked me out because I told the devil you got horns
Let's go and have a blast, don't put on my tomb

A wooden cross that no one is bad after death
In La Chinita, we'll get drunk on snow cones
Like Richie Rey playing piano on a drum, what bets I have
Me in Simon, the guija passer

The murga started in purgatory
Let a Hummer be the funeral car with all the winning coletos from the banks drinking white rum
Serve me a coconut in the store, don't pray for me
Because I've never been a saint, I grew up in the south
Walking barefoot on the asphalt on the corner between the smoke
And the hustle and bustle and the assaults listening to Daniel Santo
I don't want condolences or tears fill

The funeral home with torito and garabato that's how I rise
And I get carried away, I'm going to the little hole with Pinky and Peyito hungover to the infinite and I resurrect at carnivals
Like Joselito did, oh blessed! Cheito says it at funerals

From my beautiful people one in ten thousand and from Chivas 3 bottles
And after I'm dead tell me what you take, that's life
There's no way out of death let's enjoy before
They leave us with the earth on top

When I die, I don't want you to cry for me
Throw me a party with drugs and liquors
Let there be shots, buddy, give me a hit
And let all the guys sing my songs

That's how a coleto's wake is
Let the guns sound, let the drums roll
Sisas, cole, claro meto
Why flowers after I'm dead