Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pure Columbia, artist - Young Money.
Date of issue: 06.07.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pure Columbia |
I can’t trust these niggas, throw some water on 'em, |
They tell me «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 numberI 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 |
Yeah, free Scooter, I’m outchea |
Let’s get it |
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 |