
Manuel Turizo was studying to be a veterinarian in Montería, on Colombia's Caribbean coast, when a song he and his older brother Julián put out themselves in 2016 took over Latin radio. "Una Lady Como Tú" sets Julián's ukulele against Manuel's low baritone, and its video has since passed two billion views on YouTube. He was sixteen then, born in Montería in April 2000 into a family of musicians.
His debut album ADN (2019) reached number eight on Billboard's Top Latin Albums with Ozuna, Nicky Jam, Anuel AA and Sech along for the ride, and "Sola" gave him his first Latin Airplay number one. Dopamina followed in 2021, then 2000 in 2023, the album built around "La Bachata": number six on the Billboard Global 200, number one in Spain, and fifteen weeks atop the Argentina Hot 100. He has recorded with Marshmello ("El Merengue") and Shakira ("Copa Vacía"), and his fifth album Apambichao, released in April 2026, goes back to Colombian merengue and vallenato with Maluma on the title track.
We have all been there: you block an ex, delete their contact, and then immediately look at their Instagram stories from a fake account. That is the exact mess Colombian artist Manuel Turizo opens with in "La Bachata". He admits he deleted her number ("Tu número lo borré"), but it was pointless because he still knows it by heart ("No sé para qué si me lo sé de memoria"). Even though his ex hurt him, he is still driving around listening to the tracks she dedicated to him ("Oyendo las canciones que un día me dedicaste").
Then comes the real reason behind the breakup: betrayal. Turizo drops a blunt truth about infidelity with the line "Éramos tres en una relación de dos" (We were three in a relationship of two). He refuses to forgive her, saying she should ask God for forgiveness instead ("No te perdono, pídele perdón a Dios"). Rather than begging her to come back, he asks God to protect him from anyone like her in the future. It is a sharp, bitter, yet painfully honest track about trying to move on when your brain refuses to let go.
In "Esperándote", Colombian artist Manuel Turizo watches someone he cares about cry over an ex who mistreated her, and he is completely out of patience with the situation. He cuts straight to the point, singing "Tú eres más que ese idiota" [You are worth more than that idiot] and pushes her to stop moping inside. Instead, he wants her to take advantage of her newfound freedom—"Aprovecha que andas sola / Y ahora nadie te controla" [Take advantage of being alone / And now nobody controls you]—and head out to dance the hours away.
Underneath the smooth reggaeton beat, the track works as a bold promise of patience. Turizo repeatedly asks how much longer he needs to stand by until she finally lets her guard down: "Por favor tú dime cuánto / Tengo que esperar para que seas feliz y no llores" [Please tell me how long / I have to wait for you to be happy and not cry]. He calls her "una rosa" [a rose] that the ex ruined, claims the ex is wasting kisses she should be giving him, and promises that her trapped heart will finally get rescued once she moves on.
Har du noen gang blokkert en eks, bare for å snike på dem fra en hemmelig brukerkonto? Den colombianske artisten Manuel Turizo innrømmer det rett ut i første linje: «Te bloqueé en Insta, pero por otra cuenta veo tus historias» (Jeg blokkerte deg på Insta, men fra en annen konto ser jeg på storyene dine). Han slettet også nummeret hennes, men det hjelper lite når han kan sifrene utenat. Dette er en sang om den slitsomme fasen etter et brudd der du vet utmerket godt at personen var giftig for deg, men hodet ditt nekter likevel å gi slipp på minnene.
Turizo kjører rundt i gatene der de kysset og hører på låtene hun dediserte til ham. Men ikke tro at han vil ha henne tilbake. Han avslører nemlig årsaken til at det ble slutt med den nådeløse linjen «Éramos tres en una relación de dos» (Vi var tre i et forhold for to) – hun var utro. Han nekter å tilgi henne, og i stedet for å trygle ber han en bønn om at Gud må beskytte ham mot å falle for noen som ligner på henne igjen. I spansk sløyfer man ofte stavelser i dagligtale, som når han synger «To' lo que hicimos» i stedet for «Todo lo que hicimos» (Alt vi gjorde). Det er ærlig, bittert og utrolig lett å kjenne seg igjen i hvis du noen gang har kjørt bil med kjærlighetssorg.
Colombian singer Manuel Turizo delivers a smooth reggaeton party track where time is running out. He spots someone across the dance floor and decides she is the only reason he left the house tonight: "Eres el motivo por el cual esta noche quise salir" ("You are the reason why I wanted to go out tonight"). But there is an obvious catch: the night is ending, and she is getting ready to leave. Before she slips away, he shoots his shot with some cheeky audacity. His main goal? "Quiero robarte un beso y después pedir perdón" ("I want to steal a kiss from you and apologize later"). He even jokes about crossing the line ("Tal vez me pase de la raya"), insisting that you cannot rehearse a stolen kiss.
What makes the track so fun is how completely honest he is about the situation. He invites her on a detour to the beach, but he does not pretend this is true love. He outright admits he does not even know her name ("Aunque tu nombre yo ni me lo sé"). Instead of promising forever, he points out that nothing in life is permanent ("en la vida no hay nada fijo") and tells her to just dance. He knows this fling is strictly for the memories, joking that after tonight, their encounter will just be a "TBT"—internet slang for "Throwback Thursday," meaning a great moment you look back on in a photo.
Colombian singer Manuel Turizo teams up with Jay Wheeler and Miky Woodz for the remix of "Quiéreme Mientras Se Pueda", and the whole message is simple: don't wait to love someone. The central hook repeats a blunt reality check: "la vida es una rueda que te da mil vueltas, al final nada queda" (life is a wheel that spins a thousand times, in the end nothing is left). The guys remind us that nobody takes their possessions to the grave ("no he visto la primera historia de que alguien se muere y algo se lleva" [I haven't seen the first story of someone dying and taking something with them]), so holding onto love right now is the only thing that actually matters.
Along the way, the lyrics offer great Spanish idioms about living within your means and falling head over heels. Miky Woodz drops the classic Puerto Rican expression "nos arropamo' hasta donde nos llegue la frisa" (we cover ourselves as far as the blanket reaches), meaning you make do with what you have instead of pretending to be rich. Later, the lyrics use the Colombian slang "traga'o de ti estoy" (I am completely infatuated with you), coming from the word tragado (literally "swallowed"), which describes being crazy in love. It is a sweet, down-to-earth track all about dancing all night and waking up together before time runs out.
Manuel Turizo is here with a breakup song that's more about exhaustion than anger. He's walking away from a relationship that felt like a black hole. The opening line sets the scene perfectly: "Aunque está amaneciendo, todo se oscureció" (Even though it's dawning, everything got dark). He tried everything, but his partner was a constant source of unhappiness. He uses this great image of her being emotionally distant: "Tú siempre seca aunque afuera llovía" (You were always dry even when it was raining outside).
He admits that if it were up to him, he would have stayed. The problem wasn't a lack of love, but her unending sadness: "Pero siempre estabas triste" (But you were always sad). He even points out her "ojos rojos" (red eyes) weren't from smoking, but from crying. In the end, he had to leave for his own good. He says, "me tiraste al suelo y yo me recogí" (you threw me to the ground and I picked myself up). It's a song about realizing you can't fix someone else's sadness, and sometimes the only choice is to save yourself.
Colombian singer Manuel Turizo brings an old-school romantic charm straight to a smooth reggaeton rhythm in "Una Lady Como Tú". Right from the start, he knows his crush is dealing with heartbreak from an ex who didn't appreciate her: "Sé que hubo otro que no supo valorar lo que tenías para dar" ("I know there was another who didn't appreciate what you had to give"). His reaction isn't to play it cool. Instead, he goes all in with grand romantic promises, declaring that he is looking for a true "lady" and vows "a casa enviarte flores y en tu nombre escribir mil canciones de amores" ("to send flowers to your house and write a thousand love songs in your name"). In the chorus, he uses the informal contraction "pa'" (short for para, meaning "so that" or "in order to") when singing "pa' que pienses en mí" ("so that you think of me"), which is everyday spoken Spanish you will hear all the time.
He is completely honest about his intentions, too. Turizo jumps between classic romance like "una estrella traerte, hasta el cielo bajarte" ("bring you a star, bring down the sky for you") and direct, unfiltered attraction: "Sueño con tocarte, quitarte la ropa" ("I dream of touching you, taking off your clothes"). He even catches himself being bold and adds the line, "No confundas mi intención por decir cosas locas" ("Don't confuse my intentions for saying crazy things"). It balances late-night flirting with sweet, earnest devotion, showing someone ready to talk until sunrise ("hablar juntos hasta el amanecer") to heal a broken heart and win over the woman he wants.
Ever been trapped in a relationship where your partner worships the ground you walk on, but your feelings completely dried up? That is the exact mess Colombian artist Manuel Turizo and Maluma drop into in this smooth reggaeton track. Manuel kicks things off with pure guilt, asking, "¿Cómo decirle que no? Que ya no quiero seguir / Si ella da la vida por mí" [How do I tell her no? That I don't want to keep going / If she would give her life for me]. He admits he is her entire life plan, which makes the whole breakup feel like a disaster waiting to strike. He even wishes she would pull the trigger first ("Ojalá que fuera ella la que me dijera / Que esto ya no da para más" [I wish she were the one to tell me / That this can't go on anymore]) just so he does not have to be the bad guy.
Then Maluma jumps in and cuts right through the stalling. He calls out the fake smiles with "¿De qué vale seguir solo por llevar la apariencia?" [What's the point of staying together just to keep up appearances?] before bluntly admitting he gave in to temptation while partying ("Tú encerrada y yo seguía bebiendo" [You locked up inside and I kept drinking]). He even drops the line "Romper un corazón también es delincuencia" [Breaking a heart is also a crime], which is definitely dramatic, but it gets the point across. The music moves between pure panic and cold honesty, laying out how lack of communication and lost love leave a romance on total life support.
Hai presente quando dici a tutti di aver chiuso con una persona, ma poi la realtà è ben diversa? In La Bachata, il cantante colombiano Manuel Turizo racconta esattamente questo disastro emotivo, e lo fa senza filtri. Ammette subito la parte più imbarazzante della faccenda: "Te bloqueé en Insta, pero por otra cuenta veo tus historias" ("Ti ho bloccato su Instagram, ma guardo le tue storie da un altro account"). Cancella persino il numero di telefono, ma serve a poco visto che se lo ricorda a memoria. È una confessione tragicomica in cui si ritrova chiunque abbia mai spiato un ex di nascosto.
Il motivo della rottura però non è affatto leggero. Verso metà brano, Turizo tira fuori una frase tagliente: "Éramos tres en una relación de dos" ("Eravamo in tre in una relazione da due"). C'è stato un tradimento, e infatti si rifiuta di perdonare. Eppure, invece di voltare pagina, finisce a guidare da solo per la città riascoltando le vecchie canzoni dedicate: "Te diría que volvieras, pero eso no se pide / Mejor le pido a Dios que me cuide" ("Ti direi di tornare, ma questo non si chiede / Piuttosto chiedo a Dio di proteggermi"). Preferisce pregare che gli capiti tutt'altro tipo di persona la prossima volta, augurando alla sua ex di provare esattamente la stessa sofferenza.
The whole song hangs on a superstition about a clock. "11:11 y ya sé que quiero estar así" ("11:11 and I already know I want to be like this") is the minute you are supposed to stop and make a wish, and Turizo is making his in the worst possible state, "Borracho un primero de enero" ("Drunk on New Year's Day"). What he wishes for is domestic and specific: "Despertar contigo en mi pecho, hacer el amor" ("Waking up with you on my chest, making love"), with the worry that trails it, "Que no termine en despecho" ("That it doesn't end in heartbreak"). Then, instead of asking her out, he asks whether she was watching the same clock: "Si mirando el reloj estás pidiendo el mismo deseo" ("If looking at the clock you're making the same wish").
The chorus turns all of that into a diagnosis he hands to her rather than a confession about himself. "Pa' mí que te hace falta un beso, te hace falta dos" ("I think you need a kiss, you need two"), and the second kiss is where the joke lives, because one would have been a suggestion and two is a plan. He even says what it is for: "Que te quite el frío aunque no salga el sol" ("That warms you up even if the sun doesn't come out"). Only in the last line does he let his own side of it out, and it is the best line in the song: "Y a mí me faltas tú, y a ti te falto yo" ("And I miss you, and you miss me"). By the bridge the wish has a time and a dress code, "Te veo ahorita, ponte bonita" ("I'll see you in a bit, get pretty"), and a very modest agenda, "Una bailaíta', una apretaíta'" ("A little dance, a little squeeze").
This song is all about that electric feeling you get with someone on a night out. The whole vibe is built around the line "Que la nota le suba pa' que mueva su cintura" (Let the vibe get high so she can move her waist). It's a direct invitation to let loose, have a few drinks, and feel the music. The singers know there's a powerful, unspoken connection: "Sin hablar tú y yo nos entendemos" (Without talking, you and I understand each other). They see this incredibly confident woman who "sabe que está bien dura" (knows she's really hot), and they want to collaborate with her to make something happen.
Each artist adds their own flavor to this idea. Myke Towers gets lost with her "como en el triángulo de Las Bermudas" (like in the Bermuda Triangle), while Rauw Alejandro is blunt about his intentions, saying "Mala mía si soy muy sincero" (My bad if I'm too sincere). Manuel Turizo wants to solve their "serious problem" of attraction by suggesting, "Si tienes novio hagamos un adulterio" (If you have a boyfriend, let's commit adultery). It's a playful, confident, and very direct party track about mutual desire and letting the night take over.
“U Lala” is Manuel Turizo’s smooth, feel-good plea to rekindle a powerful romance. The Colombian singer slides into his lover’s DMs after some time apart, curious whether the door is still open. Through playful questions and vivid memories, he confesses that every snapshot of her still fills the piggy-bank in his mind. When they are together, el tiempo se detiene — time freezes — and the outside rain can’t cool the heat they generate. Even when she is away, he feels like “gin without tonic,” showing how incomplete he is without her spark.
The chorus turns the flirtation up a notch: the repeated uh-la-la captures the rush of temptation while he promises endless desire that never clocks out. Turizo positions himself as her willing volunteer, ready to ignore rumors and rivals, parked outside with the headlights on, hoping she steps out and turns fantasy into reality. Overall, the song is a rhythmic love letter about second chances, magnetic chemistry, and the intoxicating feeling of stopping the world for one more night together.
"La Buena Mujer" ("The Good Woman") is Manuel Turizo and Luis Alfonso's tribute to a partner who lifts a man up rather than draining him.
The verses open on a common worry: a man without money doubts whether love will ever find him. The chorus answers that doubt directly - a good woman does not just love a man, she makes him better. She pushes him to work harder, keeps him content, and because of that he never stays poor for long.
The song leans on a playful trade: the more she loves him, the more motivated and successful he becomes, so being loved and having money end up going hand in hand. The ad-libs and closing lines keep the tone light and celebratory, toasting the woman being sung about rather than dwelling on the earlier worry.
"Apambichao" is a flirty, upbeat reggaeton duet from Manuel Turizo and Maluma about a secret night that felt too good to feel guilty about.
The story is simple: two people who normally belong to other partners end up together for one night, and they decide it wasn't a sin because they never planned it. The song moves between playful bragging (the ad-libbed intro, the "MT, MT" tag) and a warmer, more private moment, with references to real Colombian spots like Guatapé and Cartagena that ground the fantasy in a real getaway.
"Apambichao" itself is Colombian slang loosely meaning wrapped up close with someone, dancing tight and intimate, which fits the song's mood of temptation without regret.
Kolombiyalı şarkıcı Manuel Turizo, "La Bachata" şarkısında ayrılık sonrası yaşanan o tanıdık çelişkileri çok samimi ve net sözlerle anlatıyor. Birini Instagram'dan engelleyip sonra sahte hesaptan hikayelerine baktın mı hiç? Şarkı tam olarak bu itirafla başlıyor: "Te bloqueé en Insta / Pero por otra cuenta veo tus historias" (Seni Insta'da engelledim / Ama başka hesaptan hikayelerine bakıyorum). Yetmiyor, numarasını sildiğini ama ezbere bildiği için bunun hiçbir işe yaramadığını söylüyor. Hem kalbini kıran kişiyi özlüyor hem de onunla geçirdiği anıları unutamadığını dürüstçe kabul ediyor.
İşin en çarpıcı yanı, Manuel'in araba sürüp eski sevgilisinin ona hediye ettiği şarkıları dinlerken hissettiği öfke ve kırgınlık. Aldatıldığını "Éramos tres en una relación de dos" (İki kişilik ilişkide üç kişiydik) diyerek dobra dobra yüzümüze vuruyor. Onu geri istemek yerine başına gelenlerden ders çıkarıyor: "Tú me enseñaste a no amar a cualquiera" (Bana önüme geleni sevmemeyi öğrettin). Eski sevgiliye geri dön çağrısı yapmak yerine Tanrı'ya sığınıp "Mejor le pido a Dios que me cuide / Que me cuide de otra que se parezca a ti" (En iyisi Tanrı'dan beni korumasını isteyeyim / Beni sana benzeyen bir başkasından korumasını) diyor. Biten bir ilişkinin ardından hem nostalji yapıp hem de bir daha aynı tuzağa düşmemek isteyen herkes için harika bir parça.
Have you ever wondered what it's like to have it all? Manuel Turizo explores this idea in "Vacío." He lists off all the signs of success: "Una casa de un millón, siete carros, una mansión" (a million-dollar house, seven cars, a mansion), a private jet, and even an island. But then he hits you with the real question: what's any of that worth "si no hay amigos" (if there are no friends)? It's a classic story of achieving a dream only to find it's not what you expected.
He feels an emptiness, a "vacío," that all his money can't fill. The most powerful line for me is "Un closet lleno de abrigos pero ninguno me quita el frío" (A closet full of coats, but none of them take away the cold). He admits he knew what he wanted but didn't understand the cost, which included losing his childhood friends. The song is a really honest look at the loneliness that can come with chasing a huge dream.
Manuel Turizo’s “Dios Te Cuide” is like raising a toast to a past love with equal parts tequila and tough love. The Colombian singer looks back on a relationship that once felt celestial but now crashes like a shooting star. With a bottle in hand, he admits he still misses his ex, yet he’s convinced she never felt even “ten percent” of his pain. Instead of plotting revenge, Turizo sends her off with a half-blessing, half-banishment: “May God take care of you… and forget where He put you so you never break my heart again.”
Behind the catchy beat lies a roller-coaster of emotions — nostalgia, disappointment, and a bold dose of self-respect. Turizo makes peace with the breakup, keeping the memories as a cautionary tale while insisting on distance. The song’s bittersweet vibe reminds us that healing sometimes means wishing someone well... from very, very far away.
Manuel Turizo, een artiest uit Colombia, zingt in La Bachata over die herkenbare fase na een relatiebreuk waarin je hoofd en je acties totaal niet op één lijn zitten. Hij begint meteen goudeerlijk: "Te bloqueé en Insta / Pero por otra cuenta veo tus historias" (Ik heb je geblokkeerd op Insta / Maar via een ander account bekijk ik je verhalen). Hij heeft haar nummer gewist, maar geeft meteen toe dat dat nutteloos was omdat hij het nog uit zijn hoofd kent. Het is pijnlijk herkenbaar en lekker direct verwoord.
De kern van het probleem blijkt bedrog te zijn: "Éramos tres en una relación de dos" (We waren met z'n drieën in een relatie van twee). Toch rijdt hij rond langs de plekken waar ze kusten, terwijl hij luistert naar de liedjes die zij hem ooit stuurde. Hij weigert haar te vergeven en wil haar zeker niet terugvragen. In plaats daarvan bidt hij simpelweg om bescherming tegen iemand zoals zij: "Mejor le pido a Dios que me cuide / Que me cuide de otra que se parezca a ti" (Ik vraag liever aan God dat hij me beschermt / Dat hij me beschermt tegen een ander die op jou lijkt).
Tenhle hit od kolumbijského zpěváka Manuela Turiza je dokonale upřímná záležitost o tom, jak trapně a chaoticky se chováme po rozchodu. Žádné vznešené truchlení. Manuel hned v úvodu přiznává přesně ty věci, které všichni děláme, ale nahlas bychom se k nim nehlásili: zablokuje bývalou lásku na Instagramu, jen aby se hned díval na její stories z falešného účtu (Te bloqueé en Insta / Pero por otra cuenta veo tus historias – Zablokoval jsem tě na Insta / Ale z jiného účtu se dívám na tvoje stories). A to smazané telefonní číslo? Zbytečné gesto, když ho pořád umí nazpaměť (Tu número lo borré / No sé para qué si me lo sé de memoria).
Později vyjde najevo, proč k tomu všemu došlo: byla v tom nevěra. Manuel to shrne úplně na rovinu větou Éramos tres en una relación de dos (Byli jsme tři ve vztahu pro dva). Místo odpuštění ji posílá žádat o odpuštění Boha a sám raději kroutí volantem po místech, kde se kdysi líbali. Nejlepší část přichází v refrénu, kde místo prosby o návrat raději žádá nebesa o ochranu: Mejor le pido a Dios que me cuide / Que me cuide de otra que se parezca a ti (Radši prosím Boha, ať mě opatruje / Ať mě ochrání před další, co by byla jako ty). Dokonce své ex s trochou škodolibosti přeje, ať se zamiluje a někdo jí provede přesně to samé. Bolí to, ale nedá se u toho netancovat.
“Enhorabuena” celebrates heartbreak with a wink and a sharp tongue. Manuel Turizo tells the story of a guy who realizes that the “bad luck” he bumped into last night looks exactly like his ex. He sarcastically congratulates her for being “descarada” (shameless) and stunning on the outside—“a perfect 10”—while being empty on the inside. Even her mother gets a humorous shout-out as the “best of all mothers-in-law,” highlighting how the only real problem was the daughter herself.
In the second half, the singer admits he saw the red flags yet still fell for her beauty. Now the relationship is gone, leaving only a painful wound and the lesson that looks can deceive. With its catchy beat and playful irony, the song turns personal disappointment into an anthem for anyone who has ever been dazzled by appearances and burned by the truth.
Ser Un Cantante by Colombian artist Manuel Turizo is a joyful declaration that true wealth lives in dreams and love, not in pockets. The singer admits he is “un loco que no para de soñar,” a crazy dreamer with empty pockets yet a heart full of melodies. He tells his partner that even if fame turns him into “una estrella, un cantante,” the greatest treasure will always be their connection. She is his guiding light, the missing puzzle piece that transforms everyday life into an exciting adventure.
Throughout the song Turizo celebrates how love fuels creativity. His muse inspires every lyric and makes him believe that whatever he sings can come true. With promises to hold her hand, travel the world together, and turn dreams into reality, Ser Un Cantante becomes an upbeat reminder that passion, imagination, and devotion shine brighter than gold.
Have you ever had a few drinks and suddenly felt the urge to call someone you probably shouldn't? That's exactly what this song is about. Manuel Turizo sings about a cycle he can't seem to break. He says, "Vuelvo y caigo otra vez / Como cae la noche" (I fall again / Like the night falls), admitting this is a recurring problem for him. The trigger? Alcohol. He loses all his self-control, confessing, "Yo pierdo la autoridad con unas copas de más" (I lose control with a few extra drinks).
What happens next is a classic late-night phone call. He knows it's not a good idea and that they're not meant for a real relationship, stating bluntly, "para relación no nos da" (a relationship won't work for us). He's just calling because he wants to see her tonight. It's a super relatable story about giving in to temptation, even when you know you're just making things complicated for yourself and someone else.
"No Me Mienta Así" is a flirty reggaeton track where Manuel Turizo, joined by Dei V, sings about falling for someone despite knowing better. The title translates to "Don't Lie to Me Like That," and the whole song plays with that idea: he's asking her not to act sweet and charming, because it's working, and he's already ignoring every red flag just because he's attracted to her.
The verses move through a night out, from the dance floor to the club, painting a picture of a woman who turns heads everywhere she goes. Dei V's verse leans into the same theme with playful, explicit lines about wanting her closer.
It's a lighthearted song about infatuation getting the better of good judgment, a common theme in reggaeton: attraction winning out over caution, even when you can see it coming.