Текст и перевод песни Giovanny Ayala - De Michoacán Es el Amigo

De Michoacán Es el Amigo

Ya son las tres de la mañana chequen lo que les voy a contar,
Recuerdo aquella buena noche enfiestados en ese garage.
Le di la mano a aquel chavalo y con respeto se me presentó,
Me dijo mucho gusto el Fifty pa' servirle andamos al millón.

Y un trago de whiskyto del 18 se empinaba,
Cotorreaba con la raza,
Mientras las horas pasaban,
Fue desvelada.

De Michoacán es el amigo, en California ya tiene su hogar,
Tiene personas que lo estiman un compadre allá por Culiacán.
La escuela nunca fue lo suyo, pero ya no se puede quejar,
Si se le antoja por Miami o por Vallarta se va a despejar.

Y los que no confiaban se preguntan cómo gana,
Si esta vida es tan pesada como no le falta nada,
No está pelada, pero sus ramas,
Le dan billetes pa' gastar con su plebada.

No es cholo pero trae respaldo de los rojos que brincan por él
Y carga una 45 por si acaso se llega a ofrecer.
Las matas verdes le traen suerte de repente su vida cambió,
Sabe muy bien que son las calles porque ya vivió de lo peor.

Lo verde siempre es vida y por eso está arriba,
Ver crecer a sus plantitas es su pasión en la vida
Y Dios lo cuida.

Tiene tatuajes en su cuerpo un San Juditas siempre va con él
Y en los momentos más cabrones se encomienda para no caer.
Van para arriba sus negocios y es la vida que eligió vivir,
La calidad de la más buena los morenos no pueden mentir.

A la orden pa'l relajo, sin descuidar el trabajo,
En un razer navegando con su clika, por un lado,
Está pesado, nunca es dejado,
Su clave El Fifty con orgullo Michoacáno.

De Michoacán Es el Amigo

It's three in the morning, listen up to what I'm gonna tell you,
I remember that great night, partying in that garage.
I shook hands with that kid and he introduced himself with respect,
He said, "Nice to meet you, Fifty, at your service, we're on the go."

And he threw back a shot of 18-year-old whiskey,
He chatted with the crowd,
As the hours passed,
It was lit.

He's from Michoacán, my friend, and he's made California his home,
He has people who appreciate him, a buddy in Culiacán.
School was never his thing, but he can't complain anymore,
If he feels like it, he'll take off to Miami or Vallarta to clear his head.

And those who didn't trust him wonder how he earns,
If this life is so hard, how come he wants for nothing,
It's not easy, but its branches,
Give him bills to spend with his crew.

He's not a cholo, but he's got the backing of the red ones who jump for him
And he carries a 45 just in case he's ever in need.
The green plants bring him luck, his life changed all of a sudden,
He knows the streets well because he's lived the worst.

Green is always life, and that's why he's at the top,
Watching his little plants grow is his passion in life
And God watches over him.

He has tattoos on his body, a Saint Jude is always with him
And in the toughest moments, he prays to him so he won't fall.
His businesses are on the rise, and it's the life he chose to live,
The quality of the finest, the Mexicans can't lie.

Ready for some fun, without neglecting work,
Cruising in a Razor with his crew, by his side.
He's tough, never left behind,
His name is Fifty, a Michoacanian with pride.