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