Song Title

Lil' Wayne - Pure Colombia Lyrics

Lil’ Wayne – Pure Colombia Lyrics

I can’t trust these niggas, throw some water on ’em,
They say “Go to Hell,” Okay I know the owner,
Strip clubs gettin old all the strippers hoein’,
All these bitches think they dimes, watch me flip a coin,
Thank You Jesus, My dogs is off the leashes,
Had to leave my spanish bitch ‘cuz she was startin’ to get suspicious,
Tell The Beef I mean business, suit and tie nigga
You and all your dogs can get euthanize nigga
Trigger happy nigga, I just can’t stop smiling
Thank God I’m fly, I had to thank my pilot
You think you’re calling shots, you got the wrong number
I love Benjamin Franklin more than his own mother
Throw that pussy, throw that pussy
And I don’t want no throw back pussy, man fuck these pussy-
Ass niggas, I lay back and ash Swishers
My new shoes is ass-kickers, she drink cum like she had hiccups
Rest In Peace to my last victim
We be passing blunts, they be passing judgement
5 blunts of that strong, call that strength in numbers
AK’s with Chiquitas, you shell-shocked like Adidas
Whoever find your body, finders keepers, yeah
It’s that pure Colombia
’Cause soon as the bitch tasted it her tongue was numb
It’s loaded, so I just let her jump the gun
It’s that Dedication 5 and another one, I love it!
Tunechi

[Bridge]
Yeah, free Scooter, I’m outchea
Let’s get it

[Verse 2]
I done lost a couple hoes but I’m still a pimp
This change of face on my Rollie, shout out Lil Kim
Park my cars in front my house like I ain’t got no garage
Just looking for a bitch to stay down like I’m throwing knives
Mac so paid we ’bout to start calling him MacIntosh,
I really beat that pussy up them niggas shadow box
These niggas sending threats, I’mma start sending hits
Bring me his head, so I can make sure its him
It’s lonely at the top, it’s lonely at the top
I think I’m ’bout to jump, niggas phony as a prop
Ain’t nothing on me but this chop, turn you, your homies into slop,
Put your brains all over the window, people passing window shop
Like ugh, this that pure Columbia
It’s just us, fuck the rest we got insomnia
Most likely I done fucked that bitch that’s laying under ya
She said she trying to see me, bitch that’s Stevie Wonderful
You better, mind your business, hitman with a hit list
YMCMB, the world is ours, seconds minutes
I’m a movie motherfucker, camera man, are you getting this?
Burning blunts like bridges, turn up, missing
Ahhhhh
We out here with that clean work, these niggas selling remix we got clean work
Kill everybody ya’ll gone need a limousine hearse
You see I’m armed like a fucking short sleeve shirt!
D5, what up five?
Yeah