Créditos
ARTISTAS INTÉRPRETES
Paul Simon
Canto
Angel Aponte
Voces de fondo
Milton Cardona
Voces de fondo
Hechter Ubarry
Voces de fondo
David DavilA
Voces de fondo
Hans Giraldo
Voces de fondo
Luis Marrero
Voces de fondo
Angel Ramirez
Voces de fondo
Robert Vargas
Voces de fondo
Oscar Hernandez
Piano
Bernie Minoso
Bajo
Edwin Montalvo
Congas
Ray Vega
Trompeta
John Walsh
Trompeta
Luis Lopez
Trombón
Mitch Frohman
Tenor
Pablo Calogaro
Saxofón barítono
COMPOSICIÓN Y LETRA
Paul Simon
Composición
Derek Walcott
Autoría
PRODUCCIÓN E INGENIERÍA
Paul Simon
Producción
Oscar Hernandez
Producción
Roy Halee
Producción
Andy Smith
Ingeniería de grabación
Letra
Well, did you bring me my money
My cab fare
My new shoes?
I got expenses, you know
Where's my weekly dues?
I ain't giving you my fucking money
Oye, motherfucker, where's this jibaro from?
You go when i say
I call, you come
You know it takes a strong man to survive
It ain't no accident that you're still alive
We stand for the neighborhood
He still lives with his Mami, but he sneaks down
A coolie in the shadow of the playground
You want to fight for your people, don't you, Sal?
Well, yeah, if i got to
Oh, you got to. Come here, I want to show
You something
This is the cave of The Vampires
Count Dracula's castle
The very sight could turn a white man grey
Made in the shade, use my umbrella
Black like the night we fly in
That blade is all you need to keep the dogs away
So, you want to be a vampire, man! That's good
We always looking for young blood in the
Neighborhood now
Carlos Apache collects the dues
So you bring us something that we can use
If you got the balls, then come on, mette mano
If you got the balls, then come on, mette mano
Frenchy Cordero goes down to hell's kitchen
To sell the Irish some weed
So this paddy boy's mother on the stoop
Starts bitching
About spics is a mongrel breed
Now here comes her son
He looks like a ton of corned beef
Floating in beer
He says
Fucking Puerto Rican dope-dealing punk
Get your shit-brown ass out of here
Fucking Puerto Rican dope-dealing punk
Get your shit-brown ass out of here
We stand for the neighborhood
So the shanty-town Irish they kicked his ass good
Fractured his collar bone
Coño, all i was thinking is, 'what home of the brave?
This is a fucking war zone!'
If you got the balls, then come on, mette mano
We stand for the neighborhood
If you got cojones, come on, mette mano
If you got cojones, come on, mette mano
If you got cojones, come on, mette mano
Written by: Derek Walcott, Paul Simon

