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Singer: Juan D'ARIENZOSinger 2: Alberto EchagueComposer: Ismael GómezAuthor: Enrique Dizeo

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Lyrics
Sos un caído de la cuna, un pobre diablo, un maleta.
En los hándicaps corridos siempre quedaste parao.
Te has perdido el vento al póker porque no tenés carpeta
y, sin embargo, en la vida nunca falta un buey corneta
que haga yirar la bolilla que sos un tigre mentao.

El hombre en pista liviana,
en barrosa y en pesada
si tiene sangre en las venas
jamás se debe achicar.
Y a vos te han visto hacer buches
amainando en la parada.
Tendrás muy buenos aprontes,
sos de mucha atropellada
pero, en finales reñidos,
sos mandria, sabés temblar.

Si no hay clase, ¿por qué causa la vivís dándote dique?
¿Al fin y al cabo, qué hazaña en tu cartilla cayó?
Seguí no más bellaqueando, creyéndote un buen dorique
que, si me apurás un poco, vas a quedar en el pique
pa' que chillen los muchachos que en todo primero yo.

Lo que uno sabe de viejo
a vos te falta, botija.
Sos potrillo de dos años,
recién darás mucho sport,
cuando andés como yo anduve
como bola sin manija.
Tenés que nacer de nuevo
para correrte una fija.
Aunque te juegues el resto
no llegás al marcador.

No servís pa' acompañarme ni siquiera en la partida.
No tenés chance ninguna... Pa' mí que sos roncador.
Nunca marcaste buen tiempo, es muy pobre tu corrida.
Cuando no se abre en el codo se me manca en la tendida.
Te falta más performance pa' salir de perdedor.
English translation
You are a fallen from the cradle, a poor devil, a suitcase.
In the handicaps you have always stood still.
You've missed out on poker because you don't have a portfolio
and yet, in life there is never lacking a bugle steer
that makes the ball go round that you are a tigre mentao.

The man in light track,
in muddy and in heavy
if he has blood in his veins
should never shrink.
And you have been seen to make buches
when you're at a standstill.
You will have very good apron,
you are a very fast runner
but, in close finishes,
you are mandria, you know how to tremble.

If there is no class, why do you live it giving you dike?
After all, what feat in your book fell?
Go on, no more bellying, believing you're a good dorique
that, if you hurry me a little, you're going to be in the pique
for the boys to shout that I come first in everything.

What one knows as an old man
you lack, botija.
You are a two-year-old colt,
you'll only give a lot of sport,
when you walk like I walked
like a ball without a handle.
You have to be born again
to run a fixed course.
Even if you gamble the rest
you won't reach the scoreboard.

You're not even good enough to join me in the game.
You don't stand a chance... I think you are a snorer.
You never set a good time, your running is very poor.
When you don't open up at the elbow, you get stuck in the stretch.
You need more performance to come out a loser.

The Cabeceo