El Arte de Don Juan

In the shooting room, just in case
Always discreet with a gun at his waist
Since he was a kid, he smelled adventure
He also dreamed of flying high in the air
He's a warrior born in Culiacán
He became a soldier to a scorpion's sting
His mission was special

Opening spaces in his mind
Filling the margins, great with the numbers
To be a master, he didn’t need school
He didn’t need it to build his wealth
He got planes from ranches and trucks
He didn’t take a class to fly his little plane
Nor to land it

He had adrenaline in his blood
He was quick to start and fired up in a flash
Suddenly down, suddenly up
Like a phoenix, he rose from the ashes
One day he couldn’t afford a piece
The next day he was a millionaire
Poor or rich, he was the same

The government was after him
For who he was, they had a lot of respect
For him, life was never a game
A man of character, he always lived tough
An authentic man, strong in business
Who always trusted his big partners
Because he knew how to work

The most valuable thing was his family
He had his ways, but he loved them all
Number 10 but in code
The mafia is long, shining little by little
Entering late, the fog doesn’t clear
If he said it, it was because he knew
His passion was to fly

The best father, he took care of his kids
He loved his wife and blessed his parents
A humble man, a fine gentleman
He wasn’t scared of danger in his dealings
Where it started, in a different city
He had courage and when he left, he rebuilt
And he rose again

He was a great pilot, a great friend
His brothers affectionately called him Kiko
The great story has a beginning
Mr. Fog, a distinguished favorite
Like men always standing tall till the end
He took flight and that’s how he was free to soar
It was the art of Don Juan, I remind you again...