Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song What's That? [Que Eso?], artist - Tony Touch. Album song The Piece Maker, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.04.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Tommy Boy
Song language: English
What's That? [Que Eso?] |
Took spanish one for four years, just so you know |
Spit my shit right here |
Puedame, malo muchacho |
Mos Def con Tony Flaco, el idioma que yo hablo |
Pretty young champ like Camacho, spittin the hot flow |
B-Boy shout, Zulo could stop O, bro |
You know my stilo, cigarrillo con tamarindo |
Papi chulo negro, saros amarillo |
Yo soy suave hito campion nacional como Tito |
Bringin the heat bro, unique when I speak yo Doin my Way like Carlito, beats by M-A-S-E-O |
From Panama to Puerto Rico, play my jam on caliente noventisiete |
On the expressway, and press play, see what ya neck say |
Duro siempre, parami hente, garamos |
Se acabo de ganamos, corrio, alze la mano |
Blowin ya spot like I got toast |
A lotta MC’s is Def, but they ain’t Mos, and not close |
Understand it when I shine, all your light is through |
Ya niggas wack in one language, I’m nice in two, fuck is you |
Que eso? |
Tu no sabe mi sonido |
Siempre, ganamos nunca perdimos |
Para che? |
Bianco, Negro, Latino |
Del mundo, quando unto, che profundo |
I got chips, to ziplock, rips to burst |
Nine conventional, original B-Boy, my peeps call me Merc' |
I’m from N.Y.C., so see Y in me |
There’s a lot of hustlin, found around my cheek |
Sippin strawberry daq, that ain’t never been fucked |
Try to catch me off balance, man, you shit outta luck |
Cuz we got more rams, and I drivin y’all |
Got the people like the jams, more live than y’all |
I’m wit Tone Touch, while ya all touched in the head |
Such a lethal combination, got you facin the red |
And um, yo, you don’t want no parts in that |
You style so pussy, last name should be Cat |
We takin it back, like flea stacks and pile longs |
Wit the ladies in a frenzy, runnin they nylon |
Reveal flesh to test, cuz I love bruisin 'em |
Treat my battles like my children nigga, I’m never losin 'em |
Aiyo, what’s that? |
You don’t know, that’s my sound yo No one can rock like this, we put it down y’all |
For who? |
Black, white, purple or brown yo It’s Mos, De La, and Touch, we hold the crown yo Pardon me son, but the only Spanish I knew, was dame un beso |
Cut bitches wit niggas, who nettin the peso |
Ya breathin on beats like this, if you say so I stay sippin on God theories, so where the case yo? |
Wait flow on four floors like film edits |
Fuck sayin the name, you read it in the credits |
Sit that ass down on my lyrics |
We servin niggas up some beans and rice, everything is everything |
Heavy metal thing, rock, wit most and pot stiners |
Written flows get broke down by the comas |
From L.I. |
lawn, I green shit up in my wallets |
To fly the wrong places, and get red like scarlet |
How I dollar it, I just earn the say |
So when the itchy itchy come, I satisfy the crave |
And let it fall a little too much |
I let Tone touch my ears to let the bullshit disappear |
Pafuera, tu non sabe, mi manera |
Native tongue, puttin it down, done qiera |
De La, Mos Def wit a candela |
Boriquen, que bonita bandera |
Respect the unprotected be necks to catch a pela |
I send ya all runnin home to ya buela |
Cash rap over a beat or acapella |
Kick a wicked rhyme like a fortune teller |
This fella, se pone feo quando llego |
I still be shoutin cats in San Diego |
I’m still in effect, and I’m still doin the wevo |
I still be puttin it down, til I’m a pieho |
Man, you can’t tell me nuthin about the huego |
I told ya suckas before, leggo my eggo |
Yet you insist upon playin wit fuego |
But I catch you on the rebound, hasta luego, pendejo |