El Cocol!

I am Michoacan even to the dust that my heels raise.
I am not afraid of death nor of prisons
For the business I have, some bastards are after me.
Orphan of humble cradle, born in Buenos Aires
And the tricks I have now, I owe them to a great friend who taught me to sell everything they call forbidden.
I started from the bottom, I had no other way out, had to have them well placed to be able to reach the top, my 15-shot squad helps me take care of my life.
California, you are witness, you know how I arrived, the empire I have now little by little I formed, 'THE COCOL' everyone calls me, even I forgot the name.
(And there you go, Juan Ramirez, so you can take the charm off that one with 15 shots, pure Nueva Italia Michoacan, worth it).
Morelos and Apatzingan, San Antonio and Señidor, in my fixed-up Mustang, very happy I always go, and in Buenos Aires the one who owns my love awaits me.
In Modesto, California, the drug dealers have detained me, only on suspicion they want to take me to prison, but I show them my teeth because I do not humiliate myself to them.
The waves like money say they come and go, 'THE COCOL' says goodbye, goes back to Michoacan, I go to those October parties of my beautiful Apatzingan.