Erik Estrada y sus mal portados — Entrevista sin salida song lyrics and translation
The page contains the lyrics and English translation of the song "Entrevista sin salida" by Erik Estrada y sus mal portados.
Lyrics
El sudor le escurría por toda la cara
De pies y de manos amarrado estaba
Aquel individuo que habían levantado
Por ordenes de aquel que no imaginaba
Un élite táctico de encapuchados
Con armas y calacas por todos lados
Enseguida lo llevan para una casa
Ahí lo ensillaron y lo interrogaban
Para quien trabajas, que es lo que planeaban
Cual es tu función y de que te encargabas
El hombre callado no respondía nada
Pero su comportamiento aun cambiaba
Al ver la presencia de aquel que llegaba
El terror en su rostro se reflejaba
Mas al encontrarse con el que llamaban
El ondeado un perfeccionista en batallas
El decapitante arrebatador de almas
El sujeto sabia lo que le esperaba
De gritos el hombre la casa llenaba
El ondeado lentamente torturaba
Los cortes al cuerpo y golpes a la cara
La sangre brotaba y su rostro manchaba
Sin remordimiento dolor le causaba
Para ver si el individuo cooperaba
Todos esos métodos que utilizaba
Fueron suficientes pa que el tipo hablara
Dio los nombres de los que participaban
Todos los planes que en mente llevaban
Su función era ubicar a los que están
Trabajando con el cartel Culiácan
Apoco eso es todo de lo que te encargas
El ondeado con calma le preguntaba
Con una voz quebrada si contestaba
Sin esperanza de que lo liberaran
Un cuchillo fue lo ultimo que miraba
Lyrics translation
The sweat dripped all over his face
Feet and Hands Tied was
That individual they had raised
By orders of one who did not imagine
A tactical elite of hooded
With guns and calacas everywhere
Right away they take him to a house
There he was saddled and interrogated
Who you work for, which is what they planned
What is your role and what did you take care of
The quiet man didn't answer anything.
But his behavior still changed
Seeing the presence of him who came
The terror on his face was reflected
But when they met the one they called
The wave a perfectionist in battles
The soul-grabbing beheading
The guy knew what was waiting for him.
With screams the man filled the House
The wave slowly tortured
Cuts to the body and blows to the face
Blood gushed and his face stained
Without remorse pain caused him
To see if the individual cooperated
All those methods he used
It was enough for the guy to talk.
He gave the names of those who participated
All the plans they had in mind
Its function was to locate those who are
Working with the Culiacan poster
I bet that's all you take care of.
The wave calmly asked him
With a broken voice if he answered
With no hope of being released
A knife was the last thing I looked at.