Por Sus Besos is Tito Double P’s late-night voicemail turned corrido: a hazy snapshot of a man who can’t accept that his love line has gone dead.
From the first verse he is lost in every sense of the word. His calls dive straight into voicemail, a friend swears “she’s already asleep”, and he knows it’s a lie because she always turns off her phone when she’s out drinking. That tiny act of silence sends him spinning. He paces through memories of her kisses, her body, her voice, replaying each detail like a scratched record. It is February, the so-called month of love, yet he is alone in the small hours, begging the night to take him anywhere but here.
The chorus is his raw confession: he aches “por sus besos, por su cuerpo, por su voz, por su tiempo, por supuesto por su amor.” In other words, he misses everything. The upbeat regional instrumentation contrasts with his shattered mood, turning heartache into a drinking-song anthem. Tito Double P captures that distinctly Mexican blend of bravado and vulnerability—where tough talk hides a bruised corazón—making Por Sus Besos a relatable soundtrack for anyone who has ever waited by the phone that never lights up.