Transcript (es)

Música Esta vida, cuatro vente, pisco pointed Botellas empty, first ten rows anointed The fiesta's popping and all fingers pointed Real brazos got the whole ground jointed Checking well eyes, can't be squinting no eye Can't be rimmed where it fly, keep the gleam in your eye Con mucho drum roll on time, let the horn blow Gas to the pedal like metal at a corn show The rhyme rocker with a shitload of black I'd rather I can freak the rhythm till there's no more Bala, stone y palabras, pero booze it, ha ha That includes all who go sissy la la So do the cha-cha, rupa call me papa