No hay tiempo para correr

Let’s go, let’s go, here’s Tacos
What’s up, pops? All good or what?
Tell me, pops
Alright, whose turn? We’re right in the thick of it
What’s up, dad? Good day
This is Timmy checking in
Hey, what’s up, dad?
This is Turito checking in
From court 98
Let’s go, my bro
Tell me what needs to be done and who it’s about
You already know, maternal mode
Skinny, I’m right here, I got your back, whatever you need
You know who they are? Let me, let me locate them

In the streets, you can see them, my homies are on their way
We’re coming to find you, there’s no time to run
They’ll pay up what they owe, those who were looking for me
Just by seeing me, everyone knows what’s gonna happen

If I say I’m going, my hood says: Me too
If I say: It’s fucked, they say: Alright, whose turn?
Life is expensive, death is free
So don’t get caught in a tight spot
We know you, kid, you don’t have a heart
Even though Chile was the tough guy, Pablo was always the boss
And from Colombia to Mexico, all the way to Japan
We all know what happens to the loudmouth, the ammo
Bulletproof vests for the mission
Not a single one stands when we go into action
For the times when Bicho drove the van
Today I got four rifles in the truck
Three rides without plates that always tail me
I don’t need permission, I’m the badge
So don’t make a scene or throw me off
And get back to your house, things are getting wild, uh

In the streets, you can see them, my homies are on their way
We’re coming to find you, there’s no time to run
They’ll pay up what they owe, those who were looking for me
Just by seeing me, everyone knows what’s gonna happen

You all know I’ve given them credit
If I say alright, they would’ve already taken them down
They’re well located, always been my guys
Not afraid to die, that’s what we were born for, after all
What’s up, my Mexican gangsters in prison?
The boss misses you a lot back in the hood
Shout out to the traitor who ate at our table
Even the hood says: Stick it to him for being a loudmouth
Kid, that bastard knows who his pops is
If it were on the streets, his last name would be C-Kan
The street never forgets and the hood has a memory
They were never genuine, it was always about the money
For fame, for fucking around, they’re worthless
I’m firewood, fucking sticks, we’re not the same
I’ve always been a solid dude, but damn
Those kids were never my homies

In the streets, you can see them, my homies are on their way
We’re coming to find you, there’s no time to run
They’ll pay up what they owe, those who were looking for me
Just by seeing me, everyone knows what’s gonna happen

For Calcuta, Cuauhtémoc, La Cancha, Guanatos, Jalisco
For all my homies
What’s up, Michi, and Tachis, and Pechos, Cris Rosas, Tenos, the 98s?
Maxo, let’s get another one down
The master Alex
Who else?
Here’s Mastered Trax
Tell me, Swift