Ramón Arellano

Man of few words
Pride of his brothers
Anyone was afraid of him
His hand didn't shake
Some called him colors, others Ramon Arellano

Goat horn on his shoulder
And on his hip a gun
Several hand grenades
Ready to detonate
Commander's badge and his bulletproof vest

Twenty years in the business
Not everyone can handle them
Ramon with bullets
Took over the border
Although his voice wasn't deep
He made anyone tremble

That's how he was born brave
Because he was from Sinaloa
Lover of corridos
Northern songs and tambora
His vice was women
And shooting his gun

He didn't tolerate complaints
Quickly he would holster them
Without saying a word
He shot them in the face
He was Ramon Arellano
No one could say anything

Man of few words
Pride of his brothers
Although he was from Sinaloa
He looked Sicilian
Because he settled scores
Always in the Italian style