Your honor, 
I would like to call my first witness to the stand
All the way from 
East L.A., your honor, 
Pablo Diablo
Hey, [Incomprehensible] 
Guantana Mira, hey, my lovin' is for everyone, man
Do you know it reminds me of the summertime in the
Bungalows of 
Spain, all night in the park
Eh, you would hear your music, it would be on the eighth floor
But the Pongos they reach up there, man
We used to keep the whole neighborhood up
Guantanamara
Thank you, 
Pablo, for nothing, 
Jesus Christ
What a moron, no further questions, your honor