La Santa Muerte
Erik Estrada y sus Mal Portados
The Holy Death
Many claim to be brave
Difficult in these times
Don't be playing around, my people
With the mother of the dead
The one who adorns the altars
They worship her at funerals
The holy death in style
I write and respect her
Some light candles
Others throw away their beliefs
She's the only one who never fails
The most secure we have
Big list in Culiacan
Contracts coming due
She appears at all hours
Outside the rules
Camouflaged in a gun
She doesn't measure rank or positions
Bullets causing massacres
Wherever she walks
Strolling through the streets
Shooting and selecting
Life between battles
She gambles on a coin toss
When she passed, they tormented her
She didn't take long to return
In black and white attire
Just like the one on the altar
With the scythe in hand
What more could you expect?
Don't get tangled up
One becomes stronger
It doesn't matter if you're close
Or suddenly drop dead
Among those who crossed her
Innocents also go
Don't forget
The little saint from Sinaloa
The altar is in Culiacan
The trend is the holy death
She won't forgive
Even if the altar is right in front
