Escorpiones de Tequila

A vintage legend tells that in coyote lands
Seven mariachis traveled, giving away their songs
Inside their guitars, they keep 10 kilos of weed
To cheer up the hearts of the buddies who gather
They've lost respect for the boss and the mob
Lola, serve me another beer, the serenade is playing

Badass traffickers
Tequila scorpions
The gringos are hooked
On their blessed strings

When the liquors kick in
They howl at the full moon
And they bring out the colors
Of the pale sadness
And they bring out the colors
Of the pale sadness

Their fame was so great that it reached indiscreet ears
And the cartel caught them by surprise on a concert night
Seven bullets as an end in the middle of a ranchera
That night there was no encore, you don't mess with the cartel
Marked traffickers
Tequila scorpions
They've been shot down
Without mercy, in cold blood

The liquors no longer rise
The souls in pain descend
They awaken to pains
Gunshots from a machine gun
They awaken to pains
Gunshots from a machine gun

Their story doesn't end here, they say that in the early morning
Victory songs are heard in already closed bars
And a green aroma perfumes the corners
It's the seven mariachis with their old merchandise

Badass traffickers
Tequila scorpions
The gringos are hooked
On their blessed strings

When the liquors kick in
They howl at the full moon
And they bring out the colors
Of the pale sadness
And they bring out the colors
Of the pale sadness