Sr. Cobranza

I go to the kitchen, then to the dining room
I look at the magazines and the TV
I move here, I move there
Norma Plá has to kill Cavallo
They come to me with chorizo but it will arrive
They should cook Cavallo's mother and father
And the children, if he has any
Or his friend the president, don't even leave him his teeth
Because Menem, Menem, Menem wins it
And let's not talk nonsense if they are all, traffickers
And if not the system what, and if not the system what, what
Don't tell me it's maintained with the money of the poor
That only serves to maintain a few
They deal, they sell
And it's just a little figure who's president
Because if it was Alfonsín, the one who deals is another fool
They're all bad drug dealers
If they catch you with a gram
After they set you up
The police come, you're surely going to jail
And so the scale goes up, the price also goes up
Also rises the revenge
And now what, and now what?
They're all drug dealers and the president
Is the one who keeps our people calm
He takes money from laundering
As long as the anger doesn't explode, the north doesn't send sticks

Ay ay ay, uy uy uy
What do they say about the finger they stick in Jujuy?
Ay ay ay, uy uy uy
What do they say about the finger they stick in Jujuy?

It's that Perro El Santillan
If they can't knock him down, they'll want to buy him
With speeches, if it doesn't work out for them
They're capable of giving shares to the big merchants
That doesn't matter, because the Perro
Is leaving another little dog who sticks it to this system
The finger in the little ass and how it bleeds and it's not the ass
But the one who bleeds and writhes
It's the big ass of this world
Goodbye to the Stalinist wall! The shitty democrats
And the fucking pacifists
All drug dealers, all drug dealers, all drug traffickers
They broadcast you on a loop
They're paranoid chaos
They chase you if you're gay
They chase you if you're poor
They chase you if you smoke
If you drink if you sell
If you smoke if you buy
A poor fool to make to eat
If you drink sell buy smoke
And all of you go to hell
And now what?, what's left for us?
Election or reelection for me is the same shit
Sons of bitches! In the congress
Sons of bitches in the Pink House
And in all the ministries
Sons of bitches are falling
Who kick you
In the jungle you hear shots
They're the weapons of the poor
They're the cries of the Latin
They have the power and they're going to lose it
In the jungle you hear shots
They're the weapons of the poor
They're the cries of the Latin