30-30

Coming from the shadow of the island!
We are Winchester Yankee and Nas Escobar!
Pablo, what's up, man?

Thirty-thirty, 70mm meters
It's lethal, violent
Feeds the minds of all my people
My lyrics are fundamental, represent the instrumental
Fast slow, Winchester invents in the nineties
Lyric answers to questions that don't answer
Like the mystery of when the trumpet sounds
666, will be the mark of the beast
Direct to your forehead or to your right hand
Hell, on earth
Partner, who said he had the juice in the streets
To give any trigger a shot
He said: Yankee, I will always live my life large
With so much gear now cooperating with the feds
He let himself be carried away by evil, the boy, at all times
Envy, trigger, demons on the loose
They have eyes and don't look as if they had a bandage
No one can close my spiritual eyes
It's for the trigger-happy who only thinks about hammering
He dodges a couple of punches to poke at the nebula
At the moment he feels they can catch him asleep
He has to be alert, so he goes for the coke
At the moment he feels a huge pursuit
He can't stand it, he runs and takes him down with the [?]
Then the problem starts when they release the fulete
The rifle kicks him, the same story to the innocent
And I remember the words of the one who carried me in her womb
Your future depends on the planting of your shadow
Everyone is responsible for their harvest and the person
Who plants the trigger, their fruit will be death
Sword dies, to whom the sword also injures
Impacts and kills, lyrics, untouchable, intact
I have no enemies, the only one is Satan
Sing, something that is not nonsense
Who is the gangster
You're joking, joking, joking