.Lleva en su bolsillo una pistola
Y una pesta calva
Furia escurre su puño apretado
Carga balas con mala sa
La llamaran: narcocorrido, la llaman yoli
En su bolso esconde una peluca
Unos calmante y una navaja
Pinta un maquillaje deslucido
No durmió bien, no.
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