Sr. Cobranza

I go to the kitchen, then to the dining room
I look at the magazines and the television
I'm moving here
I'm moving there
Norma pla a cavallo
You have to kill him
What comes with chorizo?
But it's coming

Let them cook the mother
Of horse and dad
And the children (yes he has)
Or his friend the president
Don't even leave your teeth
Because it's menem
Menem earns it
And let's not talk about nonsense
If they are all traffickers
And if not the system, what?

Don't tell me it stays
With the money of the poor
That only serves to keep some people short.
They trade, they sell
And it's just a figurine
The one who is president
Because if Alfonsin was there
The one who deals in another gil

They are all drug traffickers and bad guys
If they catch you with a gram
After they put it on you
the police are coming
And surely you are going to prison
And so the scales rise
The price goes up so much
Also revenge
And now comes what now?
They are all drug traffickers, and the president
That guy you keep
Calmer our people

"takes money from washing"
While the fight doesn't break out
From the north they send us blows
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
what do you tell me about the little finger
What do they put in jujuy?

That's the dog is Santillan
Otherwise they can turn it
They are going to want to buy it
With speeches if not it comes out
They are capable of giving actions
To the great merchants

That doesn't matter, for the dog
He leaves another puppy
What's wrong with this system?
The little finger in the ass
And how it bleeds and not the ass
But the one who bleeds and writhes
It's the big ass of this world

Goodbye the Stanilist wall!
The fucking Democrats
And the pacifist linings
All drug traffickers, all drug traffickers
They transmit you by chain
They are chaos, they are paranoid

They persecute you if you are a whore
They persecute you if you are poor
They persecute you if you smoke
If you take, if you sell
If you buy a poor toco
What do you do to eat?

Now what, what do we have left?
Election or re-election
For me it's the same shit
Sons of bitches! in Congress
Sons of bitches in the pink
And in all the ministries they are falling
Sons of bitches who kick the shit out of you

Why do you hear shots in the jungle?
They are the souls of the poor
They are the cries of the Latino

Because they have the power
And they are going to lose it