| MR. |
| SHADOW, T. LOPEZ AND C-KAN
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| From the nose everything was easy for me
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| My bosses left everything for him
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| Well of your loved ones
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| ADVERTISING
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| United States land of us
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| Place where we live
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| The enemy is the American government
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| They want to end the on marijuana
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| But I keep giving it nothing blurs me
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| Tap on the mouth living the crazy life
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| Coca with the president with ice
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| May my little boss rest in peace in heaven
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| El prieto is dedicated to the plevada
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| Moving jale, listening to Ramón Ayala
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| Hear the cry of my people, they do not pay attention to us
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| We're marching forward everyone make way
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| I am the shadow and this is for you
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| The anthem of the streets, the cry of my people
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| Tell me what is your fault or what is my fault?
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| Of being born on this side of the Porte
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| What fault do you have, what fault do I have?
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| That the street and the government is a mess
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| Me thinking if they will come back
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| God bless the family will not be forgotten
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| So many innocent dreams, so many
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| For the crying of all my people
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| We did this for my race, my race
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| For those who left their home
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| For those whom the government considers
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| A threat
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| 'Cause when they find themselves dying out there
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| Crossing the desert for a flag
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| Risking it all the whole family
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| For a well-being that is what they want
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| Looking at the names on the wooden cross
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| They promise to come back because someone is waiting for them
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| And watch them fall like they don't feel
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| But not even with that do they knock down their border
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| riding the beast
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| A paisa making desire
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| Dream the Mexican
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| For his American nightmare
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| Don Cautra de Vicente
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| Brought from the president
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| Health for the useless one who says for my people
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| When they don't even want to wacharnos
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| Without papers or in the corner
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| And if they want us in their fields
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| Their feints and their kitchens
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| And here they excuse marijuana and cocaine
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| Homie through these neighborhoods
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| Even the devil persina
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| If they ask where reality comes from
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| From my Lexicon, it's because I was born, raised and live in Mexico
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| Tell me what is your fault or what is my fault?
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| Of being born on this side of the Porte
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| What fault do you have, what fault do I have?
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| That the street and the government is a mess
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| Me thinking if they will come back
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| God bless the family will not be forgotten
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| So many innocent dreams, so many
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| For the crying of all my people
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| Tired of living crying
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| In our lands without forgiveness
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| No more regrets I'm here
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| And keep listening to my cry |