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Drinking cold cerveza in a boiling hot saloon Chasing shots of tequila, just about high noon Outside Nuevo Laredo, deep in no man's land Become a killer or be killed; face down in the Rio Grande Poverty will turn the life of any good man bad All love and mercy ever learned, he'll soon forget what he had Guns, drugs, and money under the Mexican sky Guns, drugs, and money; pick your poison or you die Guns, drugs, and money; a pistol pressed to his head Choose silver and you're rich; you gonna die if you choose lead He had a suitcase full of money, plenty of ammo for his gun The sweat rolls down his dirty face, his plans have all come undone It's just a matter of time, no matter how he tries He hears 'Plata O Plomo, Gringo?' the last words before he dies [Chorus]