Learn Spanish With Junior H with these 23 Song Recommendations (Full Translations Included!)
In “Y Lloro”, Junior H pours out a heartbreak story that feels as raw as a late-night confession over a half-empty bottle. The singer suddenly realizes his girlfriend has drifted away: messages stop arriving, her attitude shifts, and before he can make sense of it, she is gone. What follows is a swirl of regret, loneliness, and self-blame. He stays up pleading with the night sky, tries to drown the hurt with drinks, and pretends the pain is bearable, yet every verse circles back to the same truth: he cries because he still loves her.
This Regional Mexican ballad captures the universal moment when you look around and discover love has slipped through your fingers. Junior H’s emotive vocals and melancholic guitar lines turn that moment into a cinematic scene — think dim lights, empty rooms, and echoes of “why?”. The song teaches listeners Spanish expressions of sorrow while reminding us that even tough souls can break down when the corazón is on the line.
Mientras Duermes is Junior H’s late-night confession, delivered over a moody Regional Mexican groove that blends corrido guitars with urban attitude. In the stillness of the night he pictures his ex fast asleep, her makeup wiped away, while he’s out living the so-called rockstar life: sipping Blue Label, singing for crowds, chasing his dreams. Yet the spotlight feels hollow. Beneath the swagger lies a heart gnawed by anxiety that another man might slip into the space she once filled.
The song swings between nostalgia and resentment. Junior H recalls giving everything and getting little in return, watching the relationship fade quicker than expected. He owns his pain without sugarcoating it: he is broken, lonely, unable to regret a love that cost him so much. This contrast of glamorous imagery and raw vulnerability makes the track a relatable anthem for anyone who has tried to drown heartbreak in parties, only to find it waiting when the music stops.
Junior H turns the heat all the way up in “LA CHERRY,” a club-ready confession of instant attraction. Picture a dimly lit antro (nightclub) where sparklers flicker above champagne bottles, Dom Péri keeps flowing, and a mysterious woman glides across the floor in a sleek Fendi dress. The singer is spellbound at first sight; her elegance (“fina”) and her daring moves spark both desire and admiration. “Quemando la cherry” hints at lighting up a blunt, adding a hazy, rebellious vibe to the night of partying and flirtation.
Underneath the luxury labels and bottle service, the story is all about a one-night encounter that refuses to fade from memory. Even after the music stops, he imagines her back in his room, the two of them dancing reggaetón in private, “perdiendo el control” (losing control). He showers her with drinks, covers the tab for her friends, and keeps exchanging intense glances, but nothing matches the thrill of their first connection. In short, “LA CHERRY” blends regional Mexican style with urbano swagger, celebrating the intoxicating mix of attraction, rhythm, and high-end indulgence that makes a single night unforgettable.
Las Noches is Junior H’s late-night confession, wrapped in the soulful guitars and melancholy trumpets of Regional Mexican music. From the very first line, the singer is stuck in a time loop: “Ya ha pasado tanto tiempo y aún vivo el ayer.” The song captures that familiar ache of replaying old memories, replaying the passion-filled nights, and asking the painful question every heartbroken person knows: Why can’t I stop thinking about you?
Bouncing between longing and disillusion, Junior H paints vivid scenes of absolute devotion—he remembers being “en la cima” with her—before tumbling into the reality that her kisses were mentira. He daydreams about changing her mind so she’d “morir de deseo” to be with him again, yet deep down he admits it’s impossible. The result is a bittersweet anthem for anyone who’s ever been caught between hope and resignation, with every verse echoing the lonely hours when nostalgia hits hardest.
Junior H opens up a raw confession in A TU NOMBRE, painting the picture of a heartbroken party-goer who hides his pain behind stacks of cash, bottles of Buchanan’s, and late-night fiestas. On the surface we hear a boastful narrator bragging about luxury cars, “pacas” of money, and nonstop revelry, yet every toast and every shot is really a salute to the one who left him. The more he spends, drinks, and surrounds himself with “morritas,” the more he realizes he cannot erase her perfume from his BMW.
Beneath the corridos tumbados beat, the song reveals the classic tug-of-war between bravado and vulnerability. Junior H’s protagonist begs his ex to admit she still misses him, even while he parades through excess and danger—drugs, weapons, and late-night calls that go unanswered. A TU NOMBRE becomes a bittersweet anthem for anyone who has tried to drown heartbreak in luxury, only to find that love lingers longer than any buzz.
Junior H’s “Tres Botellas” turns a lively cantina night into an emotional confession. Over an infectious Regional Mexican groove, the singer pops open botecitos (little beers) and downs three bottles of liquor, hoping each swig will numb the sting of a recent breakup. Friends, music, even flirtatious chats with other women can’t mute the ache—so he keeps drinking, trying to drown memories that stubbornly resurface.
The lyrics paint a vivid picture of heartbreak masked by partying: every bottle is a band-aid, every toast an attempt to stop the tears. While people around him ask, “What happened to you two?” he hides behind more tequila instead of explanations. “Tres Botellas” captures that bittersweet mix of festive sound and raw vulnerability, reminding listeners that sometimes the loudest celebrations echo the deepest sorrows.
"A Tu Manera" invites us into a late-night confession booth where desire, vulnerability, and a touch of tequila blur the lines between pride and passion. Junior H and Peso Pluma trade verses like secret voice notes, admitting they are hooked on a lover who controls the rhythm of their heartbeat. They crave her physical touch, obsess over the small details (like that unmistakable tattoo), and wrestle with the ache of not having her close. The repeated question “¿Quién me come como tú?” is less about ego and more about the terrifying thought that no one else will ever light them up the same way.
Beneath the flirtation lies a deeper plea: let’s keep this alive, even if it hurts. The singers compare their addiction to aguardiente, own up to drunken phone calls, and beg for reassurance that they are the only ones in her thoughts. It is a modern corrido where swagger meets raw sincerity, capturing the push-and-pull of a relationship that is equal parts fiery romance and emotional dependence — all while promising, “We’ll do it your way.”
Ella plunges us straight into a neon-lit Mexican nightclub where the narrator is riding a cocktail of adrenaline, alcohol, and smoke. Amid flashing lights and thumping beats he locks eyes with a stunning stranger. The song paints their electric first encounter: from hesitant shoulder tap to bodies pressed close on the dance floor, every detail captures the intoxicating rush of “love at first sight” wrapped in late-night revelry.
After a whirlwind of dancing, drinks, and passion, the pair end up together until sunrise, only for her to vanish with the daylight. What follows is pure yearning. Back in the club, he lights another joint and scans every face, replaying memories of her smile and praying for a second chance. Junior H turns a fleeting hookup into a bittersweet story of instant attraction, youthful excess, and the haunting hope that lightning might strike twice.
Serpiente slithers through the soundscape of Regional Mexican music with Junior H’s trademark mix of vulnerability and swagger. From the very first line, the singer admits he cannot shake the memory of a lover’s tell-tale beauty mark, begging her to switch off the lights so he can get lost “al revés” in a familiar body. The imagery is sensual yet foreboding: she is a serpent that wraps around him, steals his breath, and still keeps him hypnotically enthralled.
Beneath the steamy confessions lies a tug-of-war between danger and devotion. He pleads to forget yesterday’s partners and reveal his real self while warning that her tidal-wave allure is bound to hurt any man who crosses her path. Even though the chance at a future together may have slipped away, the magnetic bond lingers, compelling him to promise loyalty in her darkest hours. Junior H turns this push-and-pull into a bittersweet anthem about irresistible attraction, emotional suffocation, and the hope that love—no matter how poisonous—might still offer a safe embrace.
Junior H’s “PIÉNSALO” is a raw, modern corrido that trades heroic tales for heartbreak. Over melancholy guitars and slow-rolling rhythms, the Sonora singer paints a vivid picture of a man who masks his loneliness with liquor, weed, and fleeting company, yet can’t shake the memory of the one woman he truly wants. The opening lines celebrate how perfect she looks just being herself, then quickly slip into vulnerability: the night is cold, he has no sweater, and life without her feels even colder.
The song pivots between brash confession and tender plea. Junior H confesses to partying in strip clubs, getting high, and stumbling through drunken Tuesdays, but each vice is just a flimsy bandage on the real wound—missing her touch. He clings to small reminders, like the lipstick-stained joint in his ashtray, and begs for just one more night together, believing that “one returns to where one was happy.” In the end, he admits something between them is broken beyond repair, yet his hope lingers. “PIÉNSALO” captures that bittersweet mix of bravado and fragility when love ends but longing refuses to let go.
Los Botones Azules drops you straight into the high-stakes world of the modern corrido bélico, where Junior H and Luis R Conriquez hustle “botones azules” – the infamous little blue pills that fuel today’s illicit trade. Over twangy guitars they brag about cruising through la finiquera (the Arizona-Sonora desert), puffing on Gelato weed, riding in armored trucks, and relying on a crew that is always “al pendiente”. References to el cuernito (an AK-47), fat balances, and passport-free desert crossings paint a gritty, cinematic picture of border-blurring business and adrenaline-soaked nights.
Beneath the swagger lies a note of vulnerability. The narrator feels the heat closing in, admits he “got grabbed” by trouble, and toys with disappearing for good. That mix of bravado and looming danger turns the song into both a celebration of outlaw freedom and a warning about how quickly the ride can end, making it a quintessential soundtrack for the new wave of corridos tumbados.
Sad Boyz II invites us into Junior H’s late–night confession booth, where love has gone from sweet to sour almost overnight. The song opens with the singer asking his partner to rest her head on his chest, only to reveal a heart that feels “tenso” after months of unspoken tension. Realizing the relationship is slipping away, he decides to erase shared photos and videos, symbolically deleting the memories that once defined their bond. Every lyric drips with that bittersweet mix of nostalgia and frustration, painting heartbreak as something you can try to delete from your phone, but never from your heart.
The twist comes when Mom gets involved. The girlfriend’s mother confronts Junior H, questioning his new tattoos, his “cabron” attitude, and his gloomy “sad boy” persona. His reply is simple yet powerful: “¿Doña, qué hago si su hija me lastimó?” In other words, he became the “sad boy” because her daughter broke his heart. The song balances Regional Mexican melodies with modern emo vibes, turning a private breakup into a public showdown and proving that even the toughest corridos tumbados singer can wear his emotions like permanent ink.
Imagine a smoky cantina where the music is loud, the tequila flows nonstop and everyone is laughing except the guy at the center table. That heart-heavy drinker is Junior H. In EN LA PEDA (literally “On the Bender”) he admits that every round he orders is really for only one reason: to erase the memory of a woman who walked away as if nothing happened. He brags about one-night stands and a bed full of strangers, yet each boast feels hollow because he still compares them all to her. The repeated plea “Mesero, porfa, traiga otra botella” paints the picture of someone drowning heartache glass by glass.
Beyond the macho posturing, the song reveals a tender confession: before this breakup he was “un buen muchacho,” but now the alcohol, the parties and the casual flings are just armor covering a shattered heart. Junior H blends the swagger of Regional Mexican corridos with raw vulnerability, turning a night of wild partying into a soundtrack for anyone who has ever tried—and failed—to drink an ex out of their system.
Junior H turns heartbreak into a raw corrido tumbado anthem. In "LOKERON X AMOR" he looks back on a love that crashed and burned: he gave up his wild habits for one girl, only to watch her walk away—apparently lured by maldito dinero. The lyrics swing between soft regret (he talks to the moon, blames Cupid for mis-aiming an arrow) and blunt self-mockery ("Vieras qué pendejo me siento"). You can almost feel him staring at an empty beer while his friends ask what went wrong.
Instead of mourning quietly, the singer dives head-first into a loquerón—a crazy, no-rules spree fueled by weed, new flings, and late-night parties. He brags about doubling the trouble with "dos perras" and calls himself bélico (battle-ready), yet every boast is shadowed by the pain of betrayal. The song’s push-and-pull between vulnerability and swagger captures the essence of modern Regional Mexican music: a confessional heart wrapped in rebellious attitude.
Junior H turns the dance floor into a kaleidoscope of color and emotion in Psicodélica. The lyrics drop us straight into a late-night party where smoke swirls, neon lights flash, and champagne rains down. Amid the buzz, the singer spots a fearless dancer whose carefree moves steal every gaze in the room. He invites her to kick off her high heels, melt into the rhythm, and share a hypnotic connection that feels almost magical.
What follows is a dazzling push-and-pull of flirtation: from playful “bad girl” teasing to the dreamy idea of “climbing to the clouds” together. Her movement relaxes him, her lips are “mortal poison,” and their chemistry makes the night feel both rebellious and spellbinding. Psicodélica celebrates the electric thrill of letting go on the dance floor, living in the moment, and getting lost in a shared, intoxicating groove.
Se Amerita by Junior H feels like pulling up to a sun-soaked Mexican fiesta after months of rain. The lyrics celebrate the moment when the mala racha – the bad streak – finally breaks, and life rewards you with an ear-to-ear smile. Junior H steps into this scene with a checklist of joy: flying a Cessna high enough to touch the sky, kicking up dust in a RZR, trotting a prized caballo beside a special lady, and letting the brass of the banda soundtrack it all. Every chorus reminds us that sí, se amerita – yes, it is well deserved – to toast the turnaround and cherish the ride.
Beyond the flashy toys, the song salutes the bonds that money can’t buy. A friend ‘no es de sangre, pero demostró lealtad’ becomes a brother, proving that loyalty outweighs empty talk when things get rough. Together they roam from Vallarta to Culiacán, Tijuana, and Sonora, rolling in a Rubicon and watched over by trusted guardians. In short, Se Amerita is an energetic ode to resilience, friendship, and living large in the after-glow of hard-earned success.
Junior H’s “160 Gramos” feels like a late–night confession wrapped in corridos tumbados swagger. At first the singer is hypnotized by a lover whose touch gives him chills and tastes “like honey,” yet the sugary surface hides a darker reality. The mysterious 160 grams hint at a life tied to fast money and possible substance abuse; that weight becomes a metaphor for the emotional baggage she carries. As the verses unfold, he realizes that her veins run with veneno instead of love, and the relationship crumbles under lies and betrayal.
Despite the heartbreak, the narrator keeps his cool, repeating “soy dueño del juego” and “estaré bien.” He owns up to his mistakes, apologizes for playing the villain, and ultimately chooses self-preservation over toxic passion. The song blends vulnerability with bravado, capturing the bittersweet moment when you recognize a love that once felt electric has become dangerous—and decide to walk away before it destroys you.
Junior H turns his own life story into a corrido urbano that feels both intimate and street-savvy. Las 4 Iniciales walks us through his dawn-to-dusk routine: the iPhone alarm rings, work begins, and the young migrant from Michoacán remembers crossing the border at only eight years old. He salutes his parents for shaping him, relies on the protection of San Judas, and celebrates every victory with a “sello rojo” drink and a booming banda. The four initials in the title hint at a nickname or crew tag that commands respect from Houston to his beloved Barrio de la Manzana, a neighborhood that serves as both refuge and badge of honor.
Beneath the party atmosphere lies a tale of loyalty, betrayal, and unbreakable family duty. A double-cross in April 2018 nearly derails everything, yet Junior H pledges to cover the fallout and keep his father’s spirits high. The song mixes gratitude, swagger, and resilience, reminding listeners that behind every loud brass section is a hustler who won’t forget where he came from—or who he’s fighting for.
Imagine hopping in a car, driving over 1000 kilometers just to see the person who makes your heart race. That is exactly the emotional road trip Junior H takes us on in “1004 KM.” The song paints the picture of a long-distance love where miles stretch the heart but never break it. Junior H wrestles with the ache of separation, admits how hard it is to control the pain, and still holds tight to an unshakable faith that the reunion will come.
At its core, the track is a love letter packed with regret for lost time, gratitude for the bond that survives every gray day, and a promise to cherish only one woman forever. The repeated line “Viajé 1004 kilómetros pa verte” turns the journey into a badge of devotion: distance is temporary, love is permanent. Junior H’s heartfelt vocals and raw lyrics encourage listeners to believe that true love is worth every kilometer, every wait, and every leap of faith.
Junior H’s “Extssy Model” is a neon-lit roller-coaster of nostalgia, temptation, and bittersweet swagger. The moment the singer locks eyes with an old flame, time slows and memories surge like a late-night playlist on repeat. He knows their love is “too big for one hell,” yet her pull is magnetic: she becomes his ecstasy model, the one who can rocket him to heaven even while he fears the crash. The lyrics switch effortlessly between bravado and vulnerability, showing a man who jokes about driving off into the night but secretly admits his soul feels empty.
Under the party vibes hides a raw confession: he wonders if she still thinks about him, imagines crashing her wedding just to remind everyone who loved her first, and challenges any future partner to match the passion they once shared. It is a song about craving what you know is bad for you, smiling through the heartbreak, and dancing on the edge of regret—all wrapped in Junior H’s signature regional-urban fusion that makes heartache feel strangely fun.
In “El Azul,” Junior H and Peso Pluma invite us into the flashy yet perilous universe of a seasoned trafficker who cruises in a blue Rolls-Royce, guards himself with AK-47s (nicknamed cuernos del diablo), and keeps a protective Elegua cap close at hand. The lyrics paint a picture of constant negotiation with danger — “texting with death” — while boasting of high-tech drones, powerful allies, and a lion’s mane of courage inherited from legendary figures like El Chapo (hinted at by the code number 701).
Beneath the bravado, the narrator wrestles with guilt, asking God’s forgiveness even as he admits he will likely die the same “bélico” (warlike) way he lives. The song mixes unapologetic pride in wealth and influence with a sobering awareness that this lifestyle has a price. This blend of swagger, spirituality, and fatalism is a hallmark of corridos tumbados, giving learners a raw glimpse into modern narco-culture and its contradictions: loyalty and violence, faith and sin, glamour and grave risk.
Junior H takes the legendary rock hymn “Lamento Boliviano” and turns it into a raw confession of someone who feels the world pushing him to explode. He insists he is “como una roca,” untouched by words, yet inside there is a volcano of emotion ready to erupt. This clash between outer toughness and inner turmoil paints the picture of a man searching for peace while carrying a “lamento,” a sorrowful Bolivian-style wail that seems endless.
When the beat loosens, the singer admits he is “borracho y loco,” drunk and wild, but his “corazón idiota” keeps shining with stubborn hope. He vows eternal love and throws in the playful warning “Nena, no te peines en la cama,” as if reminding his lover not to worry about appearances when life itself is running late. The result is a bittersweet anthem where melancholy meets fiesta – a reminder that even in our loudest moments of rebellion, love and longing can still blaze at the center of everything.
"Días Nublados" paints a cinematic scene of heartbreak where the sky itself seems to mourn. Junior H, one of Mexico’s rising voices in Regional Mexican music, compares the emotional weight of lost love to a literal ache in his back; even the family dog notices the sudden emptiness. The cloudy weather becomes a perfect backdrop for memories that sting, cigarettes that smolder, and syrup-laced drinks meant to soothe. With his signature laid-back delivery, Junior H confesses that happy endings were never really his style, yet he still bet on forever.
What makes the song so captivating is its bittersweet acceptance. While he admits their story is now just history, he also says it “me gustó” — he liked it. This mix of pain, nostalgia, and a surprising hint of gratitude turns the gloomy day into something strangely comforting. In short, “Días Nublados” is a heartfelt anthem for anyone who has ever found a strange peace in cloudy skies and a sad song after love slips away.