El Afro

A bag of coke, eights of weed is what sets him apart
A long well-kept afro, curly hair and red eyes
The corrido I sing is not for a mobster, it's for a stoner
Master kush his favorite, drinking bucanitas, and a washed frame

Blunts and bongs and a pipe, tortilla paper has also been rolled
Being high is his style, what he loves is being stoned
Since he was 15 he got on a plane he hasn't gotten off yet
Being high is his style, never mistake him, he's my afro buddy
Indica, chronic, sativa

He's still going strong, stress has hit him
A little kush to get going if he's tired a hit has relaxed him
A hit with my brothers, the rasta, the radish, the graduated Chinese
Being with everyone happy we keep burning, this is not a sin
Don't criticize my life just because you see my eyes closed

Here you have a friend, if you want a hit I bring it and we burn
I don't pay attention to trivial things, I continue my life smoking and chilling
Blowing smoke like a train no one buys it, we grow it
I'm leaving, I'm saying goodbye, I'm stoned, I don't know what I'm doing anymore

Chisto is coming, he's got kush in his hand, we better stay
I'm not a mobster or big, I'm not hiding, I'm everywhere
And I lead the sheep, the fans I have call me the afro