Me sé de un tipo raro, no muy guapo y delgaducho
Vestía bermudas estrechas, camisas de norma ancha
Pasaba entre los coches gritando, aunque tos’ lo escuchen
Comía chuches antes los baches, así la tripa se le empacha
Veía que tenía percha pues, se la estiraba mucho
Más que pillaos a los truchas, a veces hasta se engancha
Si sale es con capucha, aún cuando la barba le pincha
Y lleva tatuado en el pecho aquello por lo que lucha
(Un bicho) Le partiеron la tocha y desde entoncеs
El pinche luce tabique igual que si fuera una mancha
Debías de haberlo visto antes de salirle chichón
El picha estaba algo pocho pero jugaba en su cancha
(Qué lache) De lo digo no queda en pie ni el techo
El trauma va coger chicha, ve tomando asiento chacho
Lleva la mocha entre ochos y corcho meando caucho
Desde que prendió la mecha al conocer a esa muchacha
(¡Macho!) Por culpa de Cupido y sus flechas
Solo piensa en su gancho y aguna vez en sus cachas
Su pelo negro azabache, lo tapa el color pistacho
Incluso vaciaría su hucha por verla tirá en su colcha
Pero él no puede ser su cachivache… (Qué va)
Aléjenla de mamarrachos pa’ quitarle este berrinche
En el calendario tacha los días por si se marcha
Hasta que otra vez la ficha y echa babas como un chucho
(Me cachis…) sin duda alguna el guacho es un hacha
Y se le afina el mostacho cuando ella le escribe un tocho
Díganle que le acecha por si un día se cae en plancha
Rescatarla de su rancho y llevársela toa’ la noche
(Tan pancho) Que la chata
Le comente a su chato
Que o le cheta
O de un choto
En la chota
Le baja el chute
Delante de mí (Chitón)
Fíjate si es bonita
Más p’arriba de la Ermita
Más allá de la Mezquita
Hacerme el loco, buscar un foco
Tirarme al moco y robarme a la chica
Hipa, y si te mola, hipa, para y hipa
Mirarla es probar las drogas
Los que caen nunca se quitan
Que le follen a la abuela, al lobito, a Caperucita
Él un roble seco, ella un enjambre de terminas
Si van a dispararle procuren apuntar bien
Que le agarren de los pies porque
A este ya no lo fabrican
A este ya no lo fabrican
Regala su desastre a quien le frene las tripas…
A este ya no lo fabrican
Se las gasta de poeta y en realidad es un llorica…
A este ya no lo fabrican
Regala su desastre a quien le frene las tripas…
A este ya no lo fabrican
Se las gasta de poeta y en realidad es un llorica…
Díselo, Nina… no permitas que me malinterpreten
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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Percless – El Punto Cero
Percless – Antes muerto
Hecho Lyrics English
I know of a strange guy, not very handsome and thin
He wore narrow Bermuda, wide-standing shirts
He passed between the cars screaming, although coughs’ listen to it
He ate bumps before the potholes, so the gut is created
He saw that he had a hanger then, she stretched it a lot
More than caught the trout, sometimes even hooked
If he leaves is hooded, even when the beard click
And he has tattooed on his chest that for what he fights
(A bug) you split the tapha and from then
The pinche looks partition just like if it was a spot
You should have seen it before drinking chichón
The Picha was still little but he played on his court
(What laque
The trauma goes f#cking chicha, see taking chachy seat
He carries the mocha between ochos and cork pissing rubber
Since he turned the wick to meet that girl
(Male!) Because of Cupid and his arrows
He only thinks of him and agreed on his hook
The black hair of him jet, covers the pistachio color
He even would empty the piggy bank to see her throw on her bedspread
But he can not be the cachivache of him … (what’s going)
Alleze it from Mamarrachos Pa ‘remove this tantrum
In the calendar she taches the days if she leaves
Until she again she the file and throws babies like a pooch
(Me cachis …) Without a doubt the guacho is an ax
And he is refined by the mustache when she writes a billet
Tell him that she stalks him in case she a day she falls on an iron
Rescue her from her ranch and take it toa ‘the night
(So pancho) that the flat
Tell your chat
That or
Or of a choto
In La Cota.
Lower the Chute
In front of me (chiton)
Look if she is pretty
More p’arriba de la hermitage
Beyond the Mosque
Make me the crazy, look for a focus
Throw myself into the mucus and steal the girl
Hippa, and if she is cool, Hippa, for and Hippa
Looking at it is trying drugs
Those who fall are never removed
Who f#cked the grandmother, the lobito, a racket
He a dry oak, she a swarm of end
If they are going to shoot him, they procure themselves well
That grabbed her from her feet because
To this no longer manufacture it
To this no longer manufacture it
Give the disaster of her who freed her guts …
To this no longer manufacture it
He spends them out of poet and actually he is a lottery …
To this no longer manufacture it
Give your disaster to who freed your guts …
To this no longer manufacture it
He spends them out of poet and is actually a lottery …
Tell him, Nina … Do not let me get misinterpreted
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Percless Lyrics – Hecho