DOM PACHINO - Who's The Spanish Kid lyrics

rate me

[Intro: Dom PaChino]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Uh, loud and clear, yo, yo, yo, yo

[Chorus x2: Dom PaChino]

Who's the Spanish kid, damagin' shit, leave ya in bandages

Tera Iz Him, Tera Iz Him

You water heads about to splashed upon the canvases

Tera Iz Him, Tera Iz Him

[Dom PaChino]

Who's the Spanish Kid? Damagin' shit, leave ya in bandages

You water heads about to splashed upon the canvases

Talkin' shit, I got my dogs in Los Angeles

We worldwide, a treacherous threat, across the indus'

Make a bad muthafucka vanish, we get a genie

I be touchin' up, on my Spanish, drinkin' Martini

On the Island, stone real off the coast of Puerto Rico

Instant chico long distance shot, it can be lethal to many people

Found, thrown in lakes, capture the great

Even found in bed, bloody wit make, it's all a take

Here's a football, bounce the ball straight, within' my gym

Before I take a slam-dunk, on ya ass, and break the rim

End ya shit, when I fuck +Hardcore+ like Lil' Kim

Battle cat, when I rap, snap tracks just like a pen

Illegal alien, from planets unknown, let me begin

Like the worst verse, smokin' while in ya playpen

Six months old, in the projects, stickin' up men

Rap veteran, don't even ask why I have no friends

Only family, I never liked drivin' Toyota Camry's

Only German cars, Cuban cigars, land in Miami

Wit palm trees and pussy, I'm paid, deserve a Grammy

For my lyrics, contribution, is like I'm spiritual

But don't cross my path, study my math like a ritual

This Spanish individual, blast, career criminal

Camouflage posted at large, just like a liberal

Signs of all kind, sentences just like a sentinal

Convincin' you to pick up the album, and get digital

[Chorus x2]

[Dom PaChino]

Whilin' out in the urban division, rhymin' prism

Razor blade collision, cut wit position, in death or prison

From a lonely stone, a spiritual clone, whichever known

Had you shook by my voice and my tone, over the phone

How that cat feel, leavin' that ass wit broken bones

Try to ignore, I'm hard to pass through like kidney stones

When I zone, wish I got cop copies from out the dome

Nigga, I G.T., and try to find ya ass back home

Rhymin' cyclone, smoke a fuzzy bone wit Capone

In his early years, when he had Chicago sown

Now I'm blowin' out the water, manslaughter in the first quarter

Causin' disorder, to ya tape recorder, track disorder

Win the team championship, Tommy Lasorda

Out of order, snipin' niggaz off roofs like Michael Rappaport

Then blow port, home fort, in the Port of Riches

Sunbathe wit naked bitches, Dom Pachino

They call me Scarface without the stitches, without the stitches..

[Chorus x3]

[Outro: Dom PaChino]

Yeah, yeah, Terrorist shit

The arch nemesis, Dom Pachino

Yeah, yeah, LP shit, nigga

Word up, for my real muthafuckas

All my Puerto Rican muthafuckas, knowwhatImean?

My real niggaz, not them snake muthafuckas, knowhatimean?

Word up.