City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in cogiendo con mexicanas. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with cogiendo con mexicanas,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“cogiendo con mexicanas, cogiendo con mexicanas, cogiendo con mexicanas!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “cogiendo con mexicanas” down on the streets fifty stories below.