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He carries a gun in his pocket
and a bald eyelash
fury squeezes his clenched fist
he loads bullets with evil spirit
they will call her: narcocorrido, they will call her yoli
in her bag she hides a wig
some painkillers and a razor
she paints dull makeup
she didn't sleep well, she didn't sleep at all
they will call her: narcocorrido, they will call her yoli
almost nothing about her is natural
every artifice deceives
almost nothing about her is natural
every artifice deceives
shorts, Texans, gel and a great cleavage
on fake tits she carries substances
stone and orange horizon
stockings, thirst for revenge
they will call her: narcocorrido, they call her yoli
go from town to town in full sun
exhausting, breaking
if death ambushes her destiny
she wants to die in Tijuana
they will call her: narcocorrido, they will call her yoli
almost nothing about her is natural
every artifice deceives
almost nothing in it is natural
every artifice deceives
almost nothing in it is natural
every artifice deceives
almost nothing in it is natural
every artifice deceives