El Arte de Don Juan
Cuarto de tiro,por si las dudas
Siempre discreto con pistola en su cintura
Desde muy niño huele aventuras
Tambien soñaba con volar por las alturas
Es un guerrero nacido alla en culiacan
Se hiso soldado a una cobra de alacran
Su mision era especial
Abriendo espacios en su cabeza
Llenando el margen,muy bueno para las cuentas
Pa' ser maestro,no fue ala escuela
No la ocupo para levantar su riquezas
Se hizo de aviones de ranchos y camionetas
No tomo curso pa despegar su avioneta
Tampoco pa aterrizar
Llevo en la sangre la adrenalina
Era de arranque y en caliente se encendia
De pronto abajo,de pronto arriba
Como ave fenix renacia de la cenizas
Un dia no le alcansaba pa comprar un cacho
Al dia siguiente ya era un hombre millonario
Pobre o rico el era igual
Lo perseguian los del gobierno
Por ser quien era le tenian mucho respeto
Para el la vida nunca fue un juego
Un señor de caracter siempre vivio recio
Un hombre autentico muy fuerte de negocios
Que siempre se confiaba con su grandes socios
Porque sabia trabajar
Lo mas valioso fue su familia
Tenia su modo pero a todos los queria
Numero 10 pero de clave
La mafia es largo ya que poco a poco brilla
Entrando tarde la niebla no se disipa
Si el lo decia seria por que lo sabia
Su pasion era volar
El mejor padre,cuido a sus hijos
Amo a su esposa y asus padre los bendijo
Un hombre humilde,un señor fino
Era de trato no lo asustaba el peligro
Donde empeso,en diferente ciudad
Tenia coraje y al salir volvia a formar
Y se volvia a levantar
Fue un gran piloto,fue gran amigo
Sus hermanos de cariño le desian kiko
La gran historia tiene un principio
El señor niebla un dilecto distinguido
Como los hombres siempre de pie asta el final
Levanto el vuelo y asi fue libre al volar
Era el arte de don juan,se los vuelvo a recordar...
The Art of Don Juan
In the shooting room, just in case
Always discreet with a gun at his waist
Since he was a kid, he smelled adventure
He also dreamed of flying high in the air
He's a warrior born in Culiacán
He became a soldier to a scorpion's sting
His mission was special
Opening spaces in his mind
Filling the margins, great with the numbers
To be a master, he didn’t need school
He didn’t need it to build his wealth
He got planes from ranches and trucks
He didn’t take a class to fly his little plane
Nor to land it
He had adrenaline in his blood
He was quick to start and fired up in a flash
Suddenly down, suddenly up
Like a phoenix, he rose from the ashes
One day he couldn’t afford a piece
The next day he was a millionaire
Poor or rich, he was the same
The government was after him
For who he was, they had a lot of respect
For him, life was never a game
A man of character, he always lived tough
An authentic man, strong in business
Who always trusted his big partners
Because he knew how to work
The most valuable thing was his family
He had his ways, but he loved them all
Number 10 but in code
The mafia is long, shining little by little
Entering late, the fog doesn’t clear
If he said it, it was because he knew
His passion was to fly
The best father, he took care of his kids
He loved his wife and blessed his parents
A humble man, a fine gentleman
He wasn’t scared of danger in his dealings
Where it started, in a different city
He had courage and when he left, he rebuilt
And he rose again
He was a great pilot, a great friend
His brothers affectionately called him Kiko
The great story has a beginning
Mr. Fog, a distinguished favorite
Like men always standing tall till the end
He took flight and that’s how he was free to soar
It was the art of Don Juan, I remind you again...