Jay Z – Picasso Baby
Lyrics Produced By: Adrian Younge, J-Roc & Timbaland Track 2 on Magna Carta…
[Verse 1] I just want a Picasso in my casa,
no, my castle I’m a hassa, no, I’m an asshole I’m never satisfied, can’t knock my hustle
I wanna Rothko, no, I want a brothel No, I want a wife that fuck me like a prostitute Let’s make love on a million In a dirty hotel with the fan on the ceiling All for the love of drug dealing Marble floors, gold ceilings Oh, what a feeling, fuck it,
I want a billion Jeff Koons balloons, I just wanna blow up Condos in my condos, I wanna row of Christie’s with my missy,
live at the MoMA (Francis) Bacons and turkey bacons, smell the aroma
[Hook] Oh, what a feeling Picasso baby
[Verse 2] It ain’t hard to tell, I’m the new
Jean Michel (Basquiat)
Surrounded by
Warhols, my whole team ball Twin Bugattis outside the Art Basel
I just wanna live life colossal
Leonardo Da Vinci flows Riccardo Tisci Givenchy clothes See me throning at the Met Vogueing on these niggas, champagne on my breath, yes House like the Louvre or the Tate Modern Cause I be going ape at the auction
Oh what a feeling, aw, fuck it, I want a trillion
Sleeping every night next to Mona Lisa The modern day version with better features
Yellow Basquiat in my kitchen corner Go ‘head, lean on that shit Blue, you own it [Hook] [Break] “Et là je t’ai tout donné, montré, rien à cacher, tu es là Ivy, comme le nombre d’or. Jay, comment tu dis nombre d’or?” “The golden number.” “Touché.”
[Verse 3] I never stuck my cock in the fox’s box but Damned if I ain’t open
Pandora’s box They try to slander your man on CNN and Fox My Mirandas don’t stand a chance with cops Even my old fans like “old man just stop” I could if I would but I can’t, I’m hot And you blow, I’m still the man to watch
Hublot on my left hand or not Soon I step out the booth, the cameras pops Niggas is cool with it ’til the canons pop
Now my hand on the Bible on the stand Got your man in a jam again, got my hands in cuff I’m like goddamn enough I put down the cans and they ran amok My hairpin pierce skin, ruptures spleens Cracks ribs, go through cribs, and other things No sympathy for the king, huh? Niggas even talk about your baby crazy Eventually the pendulum swings Don’t forget America this how you made me Come through with the ‘Ye mask on Spray everything like SAMO, I won’t scratch the Lambo
What’s it gon take for me to go For you to see, I’m the modern day Pablo, Picasso baby
