photo: lexiboomboom · cc by-sa 4.0 ↗Jesús Roberto Laija García grew up in Culiacán, Sinaloa, an agribusiness degree behind him and no work in the field, when his cousin Hassan — soon to record as Peso Pluma — asked him to sing a corrido he'd written just for himself. "I sang El Belicón for him," Tito remembers. "He liked it and said, 'Let me sing it.' We recorded it that same day." The 2022 hit launched Peso's career and made Tito, still anonymous to fans, the genre's most in-demand ghostwriter. He debuted as a performer almost by accident, when a studio dembow experiment leaked to TikTok in 2023 before its official release. His 2024 album Incómodo — named for an online comment mocking how awkward he looked standing behind more famous friends — topped Billboard's Top Latin Albums chart for nine weeks, proof the man in the background had a voice of his own.
In a 2025 sit-down with fellow corridos artist Santa Fe Klan, who called Chalino Sánchez one of the reasons he started making music at all, Tito didn't claim the same singular devotion, but he didn't deny the debt either. "Yo también escuchaba a Chalino, pero era más de los Canelos y los Tucanes," he said. "Tenemos mucho de Chalino" — we carry a lot of Chalino in us. It's a qualified admission: the plainspoken, first-person outlaw ballad Chalino established as the narcocorrido template is still the ground every Culiacán corridista, Tito included, writes from.
listen forChalino's "Nieves de Enero" rides on almost nothing — an unadorned voice, slightly behind the beat, narrating its story rather than singing it. Cue Tito's "El Lokerón" after it: the production is thicker, all brass stabs and low end, but the vocal still leans on that same unhurried, talk-singing cadence, laying out its four-day bender scene by scene instead of reaching for a hook. The lineage is in the telling, not the polish.
In that same conversation, Tito went further, naming Los Tucanes de Tijuana specifically as the group he actually reached for more than Chalino growing up in Culiacán. Where Chalino sang alone and raw, Los Tucanes built the corrido into a full norteño-band arrangement — accordion out front, tuba and brass filling the low end — the polished, storytelling-through-metaphor sound (their "Mis Tres Animales" turned a smuggler's cargo into three birds) that Tito's own accordion-and-brass corridos still run on.
listen for"Mis Tres Animales" struts on a bright accordion hook and a thumping tuba bassline while Los Tucanes sing a smuggling story in code — cocaine, marijuana and heroin recast as a parrot, a rooster and a parakeet. Tito's "La Bandolera" keeps that same accordion-and-brass norteño chassis, dressed up with modern low end, and the same coded bravado: a bandolier stuffed with cash standing in for the danger the lyrics never spell out.
El Universal's account of Tito's turn from ghostwriter to performer credits a different spark than the usual "inspired by Peso Pluma" story: it was watching Natanael Cano — who first bolted trap drums and rap cadence onto the acoustic corrido — that pushed him to "probar suerte" as a solo artist. No interview yet has Tito saying so in his own words, but the two work the same genre-blurring corner: Cano built corridos tumbados as a style, and Tito's solo catalog, starting with his debut single, sits inside the template Cano opened.
listen forCano's 2019 "El de la Codeína" keeps the acoustic requinto and tuba of a traditional corrido but pushes the vocal into a clipped, rap-adjacent cadence — the fusion that defined corridos tumbados. Tito's 2023 debut single "Dembow Bélico" starts from that same acoustic-corrido base, then drops a dembow rhythm underneath the requinto, pulling the genre-blend a step further than Cano had — the accidental studio joke that became Tito's first hit.