Pablo Escobar Quotes In Spanish Novels & Stories

But also scary as hell! "So what can I get for you two?" Papa asks. "Four Jibarito meals for me Tio. Babe you can get whatever you want." I grin, "Whatever I want?" He smirks looking down at me with intensely lustful hooded eyes. "Por supuesto Mami. Lo que quieras." I gasp, my eyes widen and I soak my undies! His deep voice is so smooth as it pours over me like liquid velvet. His accent when he speaks Spanish is sooo hot! But I have no idea what he just said. "What, Papi?" I utter dazed.

I replied. But Don Pablo hadn't stopped laughing. "Oh! I remember now. I guess he was trying to play the hero then," He said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he spoke, "He's quite the lover boy, and just like always, he tried to risk his life again," he added. My brows drew together as his words dropped in my heart like a stone, His words made me uneasy, bit I quickly shoved it aside as I decided not to read meaning to his words.

If Gonzalez wasn’t going to pick up, I’d make sure his daughter got the message loud and clear. “El diablo camina entre nosotros, pero su tiempo llegará.” (The devil walks among us, but his time will come.) I hear a sharp inhale from the other end. “¿Qué dijiste?”(what did you say?) I don’t stop. “Ricardo Borrelli’s time has come.” Then, I hear muffled whispers, hurried footsteps, and a rustling noise. Then, the next voice that comes through is exactly who I’ve been waiting for. It is a deep and gruff heavy Spanish accent.

"I mean, we are at the background, staring at a woman that led us to a strip club that turned out to be another building for some sort of activities we know nothing about and here we are, answering an instruction from a man who we barely know. A man who wants us to make a decision for him. What the fuck is wrong with you man? Are you high on drugs? Do you take Cocaine?" Carlos laughed as he smashed his right palm on his forehead as if to calm a terrible blood flow going on there. "Do I look like fucking Escobar to you?" "Who is Escobar?" Michael asked. "Pablo Escobar is a popular and influential Colombian drug lord who burnt millions of dollars to save his daughter life," Savannah answered.

I inquired. "Of course, you don't get compliments from such a handsome dude like me every day," he explained. "Well I didn't appreciate your compliment, take it back," I said "I'm afraid I won't be able to." It's a pleasure to meet you; my name is Pablo Escobar, and I used to work for the Black Mafia. How about you, baby?" He casually introduces himself and must be pleased to be a member of The Black Mafia. I wasn't surprised; from all indicators, I knew he was a member, which is why I was still observing his demeanour.

("And who is Betty to you? Is she your mother?" He shook his head, confusion clouding his eyes, "Betty è Betty, non la mia mamma. La mia mamma se n'è andata. Pablo ha detto che sono un orfano. Un bastardo." ("Betty is Betty, not my mama. My mama is gone. Pablo said I’m an orphan. A bastard.")

I caught sight of him wiping what looked to be blood from his lip. “Cosa?” (What?) I motioned with my finger to the spot of blood he had missed at the corner of his lip. “Puttanella.” (Little bitch.) Pablo smirked, picking up the handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his mouth. I could see the clear cut that had formed on the edge of his lip. “Mi ha morso.” (She bit me.) He laughed unnervingly as he noticed my stare. “Il Don ha detto di non toccarla.” (The Don said not to touch her.) Pablo could see the disapproving look I was giving him, but he didn’t seem to care.

he smiles evilly, “not surprised I see, I mean nothing surprises you these days anymore” “You mother fucker” I scoff, “I would fucking kill you. You think you can steal from me, shoot my men and me and go scot free?” “Yes, yes I can. I mean I have done all those things, what else is there?” He laughs. “Kill me now Sánchez, no tengo ninguna piedad cuando se trata de la muerte” I don't have any mercy when it comes to death. “siempre hay piedad en la muerte”

Ace blurts out. "¡Hijueputa! ¡Doble hijueputa! ¡Triple hijueputa! ¡Culicagado! ¡Pirobo! ¡Gueva!" I scream out a slew of Colombian curse words meaning anything from mother f*cker to brat. I was so frustrated that I had seemingly transitioned into my mother tongue to swear my head off. I couldn't believe it. She had done it again. But this time, she had not only gotten past my men but also a top-of-the-line security system.

“Palooka — necesitas encabezar una entrega. El Don insiste.{Palooka —you need to lead a delivery. Don insists}” Antonio exhaled hard, frustrated. He looked at Nevena— raw hunger and promise. “We’re not done,” he murmured. He lowered her to the floor, grabbed the towel, and stalked toward the bathroom. “I’m coming right back.” Then back to the phone: “Hazte cargo tú — bastardo,” {Handle it yourself — Bastard}” he growled. “Y a menos que alguien se esté muriendo, no me vuelvas a llamar {And unless someone is dying—don’t call me again}”