Alfredo Beltrán

With a fixed gaze
Man with a thick beard
With an accent of authority
That's how he talks to his people
Gentleman and good friend
His name is Alfredo Beltrán

As if they were mochomos
That's how his race follows him
I always see them loaded
Going up and down
If the sun gets too hot
They hide with all their cargo

That's why he's the chief of the tribe
He has it well deserved
Numbers for the accounts
A hand for the friend
Caresses for the ladies
Bullets for the enemies

Hated by two in the mafia
Kidnappers and bandits
To the godmothers of the government
And the ungrateful
Wherever Mochomo goes
The path is left clean

A 32 is approaching
Along with a 36
The 7 tells the 20
I want you to give your all
I'll wait for you at 27
As dawn begins

For beaches he's a warrior
For tequila, Jalisco
For women, Mazatlán
My cradle is Badiraguato
For a good friend, a hug
And we'll see each other later