Lyrics of 'Pure Colombia' by Lil Wayne

I can’t trust these niggas, throw some water on ‘em
They tell me go to hell, okay I know the owner
Strip clubs getting’ old, all the strippers hoe-in’
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 cause she was startin’ to get suspicious
Tell the beef I mean business, suit and tie nigga
You and all your dogs could get euthanize nigga, ahhhhh
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 throwback pussy
Man fuck these pussy-ass niggas
I lay back and ash swishers
My new shoe is ass-kickers
She drink cum like she had hiccups
Rest in peace to my last victim, ahhh
We be passing blunts, they be passing judgement
Five blunts of that strong, call that strength in numbers
Uh, aks 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
Yeah, free scooter
I’m outchea
Let’s get it

I done lost a couple hoes but I’m still a pimp
Just changed the 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
Mack 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 it’s him
It’s lonely at the top, it’s lonely at the top

I think I’m ’bout to jump, niggas phoney as a prop
Ain’t nothing on me but this chop
Turn you and your homies into slop
Put your brains all over the window, people pass and window shop
Like uhh, 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, ahhhh
We out here with that clean work
These niggas selling remix, we got clean work
Kill everybody, y’all gone need a limousine hearse
You see I’m armed like a fucking short sleeve shirt
What up five?
Yeah