HISTERICO (part. ElPatron970, Tony Trampa y Ganggy)

Chasing money, all day on the street
A few are far away, on the fit side
Screw the cops, bro, you were a snitch
I'm cruising the city like I'm in Need for Speed

I live in Monterrey, the house full of sticks
I remember rocking my Jordans always stained
And now it's all designer, all the kicks
And now it's all designer, all the kicks

Strolling through Europe, spending cash
In a German car crossing Cibeles
I started acting shady when I saw the loyal ones
Broski with the girls, he made it on TV

I got money, pussy, weed, and liquor too
The guards on the left, just in case, put it in Sport
I remember when we stole candy from the store
And now thank God there's money to spend at the mall

I can't wait 'til it's over, get outta here, no more asking for loans
I still remember Steve when he didn't drink
Cruising the track all hysterical
How do you want a war with no cash in the bank?
Dude, it seems pathetic to me, yeah
I'm sipping coconut Casamigos, the shooters from Mexico

I got my broski with me, they take the heat
At 40, I don't get another lexicon
The watch, the chain, all iced out
With diamonds, all from the white stuff

Cruising the street in the car at dawn
Hoping for another successful sale
Risking my life to get outta here
See the Glock and they get hysterical

Everything I wear matches just right
How to forget those times on the corner?
In those alleys was my doctrine
With the crew looking for the top

I lacked sneakers, now I got a collection
Chain, inlaid, the watch's lit
Designer clothes, a Wimbledon for Dario
Yesterday I wanted a plate, today I eat the best

Everything changed, now I'm out and free
Nothing's missing, we're doing better
We came from the bottom, now the ones who said no are looking for me
We came from the bottom, now the ones who said no are looking for me
We came from the bottom, now the ones who said no are looking for me

Designer clothes inside the suitcase
On the street, I make the money move
And my dude always shoots, he doesn't wait
It's not Colombia, but he's got a stash

The soles of the Air Forces are fresh
Foreign guns coming from abroad
And now all the fabrics are designer
On the street running smooth, Goodfellas

I got my broski on the street
With the guitar, but my bro ain't a musician
And my brody locked up with shackles
For real cases, not kid stuff, bro

Money over bitches, but I want one with Ester Expósito's face
I'm spending euros with Polo
Blowing up the stores and heading to Mexico

I'm chasing money on the street in Sport
I step on it if I see the ugly ones in the R-sport car
On the street making money, circling the block
The cupholder's empty, always carrying the Glock

The bitch calls me, money and fame got me going crazy
I live among people who get high and also barely fall (ey)
Many wanted to be where I am, but they ain't the real deal
Just because in convoy they last while patrolling the city
They split the squares here in Sonora, watch out for the sector

Bro, you better step up, don't be a coward, 'cause they'll break you quick
We're the zeros of the months, yeah, snorting with thousand-dollar bills
In danger we roll, between the bullets is where I was born
We're wild cruising, we don't have time to sleep
In the trunk, the hitman always carries the long rifle

Mm-mm-mm-mm, corrido tumbado with Los Santos
Mm-mm-mm-mm, corrido tumbado with Los Santos
Mm-mm-mm-mm, corrido tumbado with Los Santos