El de La Codeina (part. Herencia de Patrones y Hijos de Garcia)

From the original poetry of your homie Natanael Cano, now
Patron's Heritage
And the Sons of Garcia, come on, man

They say that for drug dealers, it's just white powder to get us high
But that's a lie, 21st century, in the 80s, it was the flu
With a drink, watching over the areas, with guns drawn
Here in Califa, we're very, very alert
With some songs, like Sour Diesel, to play on the speakers
If I'm tired, syrup in the glass for the cough I still have
It's been many years, it won't go away and I'm still drinking
Pure codeine and negotiating
Shaved head, Cheyenne 8-6 with a well-tuned engine
Rolling around for a while
During the day I work, at night I let loose
That's how I spend my time, with all my friends and the crew we've formed
Burning some good weed, well traveled

And that's how the legacy of bosses sounds, homie
Homie Natanael
And the Sons of Garcia
Yeah
Clica Shit

P-90 and long guns
Phiniquiera, walking around with downcast eyes
Beggars are drinking, leaning on my house because I've been so drunk
Over there in Peñasco, my friend Curro is working hard with his people
M that backup, big bosses
My neck tattooed, several scars from being a bum
When I'm partying, drinking a muddy 4 syrup
Here I say goodbye, rolling some Sour Diesel to get me going
Repeat the verses and the glass
They say that for the narco it's just white powder to relieve us
Don't throw the wheel, it's better to stay quiet than to talk
It's not allowed, I won't say the code, and it's Hernán to his friends
Forging a cocky, well-groomed guy

We're still in the scene
The Sons of Garcia
Homie Natanael Cano, dudes
Legacy of bosses, man
Pure humble ranch and Lumbre Music, dude