Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Look Like Basquiat, artist - Robb Bank$. Date of issue: 22.04.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Look Like Basquiat |
| I’m happy |
| Mhm, mhm |
| Savage, life |
| SpaceGhostPurrp |
| Lil' bitch |
| My bathtub lift up, my walls do a 360 |
| And you owe me 4 for that whole thang, that’s 36 deep |
| I got yo bitch trynna spoon |
| I paint a picture with her hymen |
| She dress up like Sailor Moon for my excitement |
| Said «Wipe Me Down» I got a lot of money now, bitch |
| Said «Wipe Me Down» I got a lot of money now, bitch! |
| Nigga get yo mind right, still got work on deck |
| Put you down with my connect if yo stocks right |
| Get tangible with that tangerine, break it down so I can smoke it in the |
| limelight |
| And I got a new bitch, we looking up at the stars |
| No ceiling like I’m tryna shoplift |
| In a candy-coated Van Gogh painted Lexus, art school bitch love when I scoop |
| her in that shit |
| When I talk, know that that’s pimp shit mane |
| Blow sick smoke, smell like incense mane |
| Just bought a 5 and it grip my Hanes, and I put that on my momma like she Lisa |
| Ann |
| It was flown over seas just to get sent to me |
| Hands stuck to my bitch tanlines while we at the beach |
| And I jumped yo homeboy, well sorry, bitch, I was on a bean |
| I got my bud and my woodgrain steering wheel all from the Giving Tree |
| My nigga, fuck with me! |
| Well I got yo bitch rubbing all on her clit in that oh-10 |
| I recline my seat and pull out my shit, shoot one on her hood like I’m Zimmerman |
| A handful of real niggas and I’m rolling with 'em bitch |
| Young nigga only growin' pains I got is in my dick |
| In the set with a redhead, battle to the death |
| Look like First Form Cell all the freckles on her chest |
| And I lay it all out |
| Show 'em straight money so they know it’s real |
| Robb Bank$ to the public, but to my Zo’s I’m Jean-Michel |
| I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| Bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| Basquiat, bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| These hoes on my dick, so I’m going hard in the paint |
| Me and Madonna got married and that heroin in my veins |
| And I whip my hair back and forth, go ask ya man if he straight |
| Just know I’m fresh off the Xan, tell that nigga give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| And I got bitches mixing my paint and getting high off of the fumes |
| I’m taking bitches out on dates and take them right back to my room |
| Room 69 at the Fountainebleau, right before I smang me and her make a toast |
| Fucking bitches on my pottery wheel same skin tone as a motherfucking ghost |
| And I mix lemonade with that dirty and I take one sip and I’m higher than a |
| bitch |
| Pull out my dick and these hoes run |
| And get paper towels for they head like Jadakiss |
| Suck my dick! |
| I’m out here nigga yelling «Suck my dick!» |
| Lohan told them niggas «Suck my dick!» |
| Mill told them fuck niggas «Suck my dick» |
| And I bet your bitch gonna wanna take a pic when I throw on all of these |
| diamonds |
| You see the accents when I’m shining like Keith Haring a set full of riders |
| And I’m riding through my city painting on a pill painting all my sights in |
| acrylics |
| Got a AR that play dubstep if you try to come for my skrilla |
| And I ain’t tryna have no fuck niggas up in my region |
| My bitch and I made a smokescreen and I’m coughing and she wheezing |
| I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| Bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| Basquiat, bitch, I look like Basquiat, Basquiat |
| These hoes on my dick, so I’m going hard in the paint |
| Me and Madonna got married and that heroin in my veins |
| And I whip my hair back and forth, go ask ya man if he straight |
| Just know I’m fresh off the Xan, tell that nigga give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint |
| Give me something to paint, lil' bitch |
| Money |
| Hoes |
| Money |
| Hoes |
| And now I don’t count no money and I don’t fuck no hoes |
| 'Cause now I got an accountant, I’m never in town so these bitches just gon' |
| send nudes to my phone |
| And I’m out in the Bahamas smoking wine milds in the grapevine |
| Paid off that villa, but I’m only there up in the daytime |
| And that’s love to all of my Spring bitches, kisses to my Margate hoes |
| Colgate for my incisors, platinum for my k9s |
| And you bi niggas dressing in furs, like what the fuck? |
| Gotta rose gold wedding band and she still wanna fuck |
| I could run a hot wheel down her curves |
| Still wanna fuck even though my bathroom is his and hers |
| My main bitch, she just got a new whip, got her a baby Glock that tote right |
| above her clit |
| Queen of my Sparta in them gladiator flats |
| Motherfucking real bitch, man, she keep it 300 |
| But no sweet shit, don’t dap me, I ain’t Freddy |
| Straight like that, nigga, straight like that |
| WOBO hit it 'til I get to the plastic on the black boy |
| And all you niggas is tatted for no reason, take it if you want it as a diss |
| You doing cover-ups bitch and I’m doing the same thing with my dermatologist |
| And if your lips touch my dick make sure that they filled with collagen, |
| that’s barbie bitch |
| Hit my me if your ass want to menage again, and a bottle of that white Remy got |
| my words all slurred |
| And my hair getting longer, I’m Super Saiyan 3, nigga, that’s my word |
| My niggas, that’s my word, nigga, that’s my word |
| You niggas think you really fucking with me? |
| Sure |