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