Who's the Spanish Kid

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
 Uh, loud and clear, yo, yo, yo, yo
 (2X: 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, 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
 (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.
 (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.