Текст и перевод песни Perdidos de Sinaloa - La Muerte De Manuelon

La Muerte De Manuelon

Vamos a echarnos un corridazo por ahí también
Pa toda la plebada que anda pisteando con nosotros
Esta noche viejones, uah
Tenemos esto que se llama "La Muerte...", "La Muerte de Manuelon", compadre
Dice más o menos, de los corridazos

Las lágrimas de un recluso, salieron del alma, causaban gran daño
Que provocó la noticia de que en Culiacán tán velando a su hermano
Era Manuel Torres Félix, con clave el 14, de apodo el Ondeado
Y el que lo llora es un hombre, muy hombre, de nombre Javier
Es su hermano

Salucita de la buena, chavalones
Ánimo

Octubre 13 del 12, poblado Oso Viejo, fuiste el escenario
De aquel combate suicida, batalla abusiva de uno contra varios
Más de 28 soldados fuertemente armados contra un mercenario
Que les peleó hasta la muerte de frente y valiente
Que no nacen diario

Váyase tío pa la casa, ya no está su raza, que ahí vienen los guachos
Y esta vez no vienen solos, vienen codo a codo
Con los del gabacho
No se preocupe sobrino, agarre camino y al rato los guachos
Pero antes que se despidan, tráigame comida, plebes no sean gachos

Y así suenan los Perdidos de Sinaloa, compadre
Uah

Balas desde la azotea, les tiró la de Manuel contestaba
Con una súper pa'l cielo y con otra los perros del suelo atacaba
Las dos tronaban a un tiempo, más de 400 tiros disparaba
Pero se le acabó el parque, con humos y tanques ahí lo remataban

Descanse en paz, compadrito, faltaba poquito pa que lo mirara
Atrás quedó su cuchillo, disfruté al Tachillo que tanto extrañaba
Su muerte me duele tanto, pues no sabe cuánto yo acá lo esperaba
Son palabras de Javier, a su hermano Manuel, hombres de sangre brava

Manuel's Death

We're going to take a little ride out there too
For all the locals who are partying with us
Tonight, old friends, uah
We have this thing called "The Death...", "The Death of Manuelon", my friend
It says more or less, the corridos

The tears of a prisoner, came from the soul, caused great damage
That caused the news that in Culiacán they are watching over his brother
It was Manuel Torres Félix, code name 14, nicknamed el Ondeado
And the one who cries for him is a man, a real man, named Javier
He's his brother

A toast to the good stuff, my friends
Cheers

October 13, 2012, in the town of Oso Viejo, you were the scene
Of that suicidal gunfight, an unfair battle of one against many
More than 28 heavily armed soldiers against a mercenary
Who fought them to the death, face to face and bravely
They're not born every day

Go home, uncle, your people are gone, the cops are coming
And this time they're not alone, they're coming side by side
With the gringos
Don't worry, nephew, take the road and in a while the cops
But before you go, bring me some food, don't be mean, guys

And that's how the Perdidos de Sinaloa sound, my friend
Uah

Bullets from the roof, Manuel's fired back
With a super for the sky and another for the dogs on the ground
Both of them were firing at the same time, more than 400 shots were fired
But he ran out of ammo, and there with smoke and tanks they finished him off

Rest in peace, my friend, it was almost time for me to see you
Your knife is still here, I enjoyed el Tachillo whom I missed so much
Your death pains me so much, because you don't know how much I was waiting for you here
These are the words of Javier, to his brother Manuel, men of brave blood