El Jornalero (El Hijo de Tuta)

Well, here comes the son of a b****, guys
And how the son of a b**** dances so tastefully

The son of a b**** is the manager of the factory where I work
He treats people very badly with the salary he imposed on us
With this damn life of working day labor, I'm going to end it
I can't stand this idiot boss anymore, I can't swallow it

I sweat like crazy so that another gets a measly wage
And the other there in the office drinking whiskey and I can't afford to buy
At five in the morning, I'm up drinking salt water
Because we day laborers can't even drink panela water anymore

At ten in the morning, the son of a b**** arrives without greeting
Saying work, friend, this business is to deliver
At ten in the morning, the son of a b**** arrives without greeting
Saying work, friend, this business is to deliver

What a nice car (the son of a b**** has)
What a nice house (the son of a b**** has)
What a nice woman (the son of a b**** has)
What nice clothes (the son of a b**** has)

I heard that the son of a b**** fell
Can you believe it, Simon Sanchez?

It makes me want to tell him to work, bumblebee, like I do
I won't run away from anyone for such a low wage, I swear
How is it possible, gentlemen, that someone starving can work
Raise my wages, the ugly one, so I can hustle

At ten in the morning, the son of a b**** arrives without greeting
Saying work, friend, this business is to deliver
At ten in the morning, the son of a b**** arrives without greeting
Saying work, friend, this business is to deliver

What a nice car the son of a b**** has
What a nice woman the son of a b**** has
What a nice house the son of a b**** has
What nice clothes the son of a b**** has

You don't know a secret he has over there
That when he drinks
His boat gets wet
The son of a b****