Remix Lola Flores, Residente y Rosalía (Cómo Me Las Maravillaría Yo)

Thirty thousand seven hundred fifty!
They have beheaded him from Torrelodone
Take him to cheer up your relative
They are going to win millions!
Almost nothing!

To buy a wagon of ham
After being greased
And a bed with seven mattresses
To then sleep soundly

How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them
How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them

I had a little stew, a little pencajo pencajito
Behind the sink a wedge, behind the wedge a jar
With twenty-five women and a crack behind the crack a garden that says
Don Alonso Caña and cork Doña Juana cork cane
And out comes Mr. kirikirikajo with seven kirakirakirakijitos
Mr. kirikirikajo do you want to kirakajar with me?
No, Mr. kirikajo, I wouldn't want my daughter to crush a garlic flower

How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them

That broken little glass
I felt it crunching
Before falling to the ground
And look, I already knew
That it was breaking

The light in the hallway is already flickering
There's a voice in the staircase
That looks like it's taking
Someone crossing the hallway

How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them

My grandma had a pot
She put it under the bed
And in the pot I don't know what she did
That turned it into a hellish ball

She put in the pot
Frog skins
Turtle teeth
Celery and marijuana

Elephant hairs
Garlic and parsley
Rolling a joint like a zeppelin
The tail of a bull

She twisted her mouth
Tarantula blanket
Your hand and mine
The beak of a parrot
Cinnamon lemon
With one leg I tell you

How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them
How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them

Dare-dare-dare, jump out of the closet
Uncover yourself, remove the nail polish
Stop covering yourself
No one's going to portray you
Get up, get hyper
Turn on, spark the starter
Light up like a wiper
Shake off the sweat as if you were a lighter
Because you're street, Street Fighter
Hello, stop the show
Raise your miniskirt up to your back
Raise it, stop the show, higher
Because here we're going to dance for the whole gang

Good girl, it doesn't matter if you strip, it doesn't matter if you're a rapper or a hippie
If you're from Bayamón or Guaynabo City
Don't be picky with me
This is all the way down, grab the triqui
This is easy, this is a guanwey
What does it matter if you like a fight?
What does it matter if you like your sister?
This is direct, non-stop, one way
I swear to you by law
Here all flamencas know karate
They cook with tomato sauce
They wet the rice with a little avocado
To harvest 14-carat buttocks

How would I marvel at them?
How would I marvel at them?
How would I marvel at them?
That's how I would marvel at them