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look like basquiat - robb bank$ lyrics

[intro: robb bank$ & cadie]
i’m happy
mhm, mhm
savage, life
sp-ceghostpurrp
lil’ b-tch

[verse 1]
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 b-tch 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, b-tch
said “wipe me down” i got a lot of money now, b-tch!
n-gga 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 b-tch, we looking up at the stars
no ceiling like i’m tryna shoplift
in a candy-coated van gogh painted lexus, art school b-tch love when i scoop her in that sh-t
when i talk, know that that’s pimp sh-t 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 b-tch tanlines while we at the beach
and i jumped yo homeboy, well sorry, b-tch, i was on a bean
i got my bud and my woodgrain steering wheel all from the giving tree
my n-gga, f-ck with me!
well i got yo b-tch rubbing all on her cl-t in that oh-10
i recline my seat and pull out my sh-t, shoot one on her hood like i’m zimmerman
a handful of real n-ggas and i’m rolling with ’em b-tch
young n-gga only growin’ pains i got is in my d-ck
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

[chorus]
i look like basquiat, basquiat
b-tch, i look like basquiat, basquiat
basquiat, b-tch, i look like basquiat, basquiat
these hoes on my d-ck, 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 n-gga 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

[verse 2: robb bank$]
and i got b-tches mixing my paint and getting high off of the fumes
i’m taking b-tches 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
f-cking b-tches on my pottery wheel same skin tone as a motherf-cking ghost
and i mix lemonade with that dirty and i take one sip and i’m higher than a b-tch
pull out my d-ck and these hoes run
and get paper towels for they head like jadakiss
suck my d-ck! i’m out here n-gga yelling “suck my d-ck!”
lohan told them n-ggas “suck my d-ck!”
mill told them f-ck n-ggas “suck my d-ck”
and i bet your b-tch 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 f-ck n-ggas up in my region
my b-tch and i made a smokescreen and i’m coughing and she wheezing

[break]
money
hoes
money
hoes

[verse 3]
and now i don’t count no money and i don’t f-ck no hoes
’cause now i got an accountant, i’m never in town so these b-tches 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 b-tches, kisses to my margate hoes
colgate for my incisors, platinum for my k9s
and you bi n-ggas dressing in furs, like what the f-ck?
gotta rose gold wedding band and she still wanna f-ck
i could run a hot wheel down her curves
still wanna f-ck even though my bathroom is his and hers
my main b-tch, she just got a new whip, got her a baby glock that tote right above her cl-t
queen of my sparta in them gladiator flats
motherf-cking real b-tch, man, she keep it 300
but no sweet sh-t, don’t dap me, i ain’t freddy
straight like that, n-gga, straight like that
wobo hit it ’til i get to the plastic on the black boy
and all you n-ggas is tatted for no reason, take it if you want it as a diss
you doing cover-ups b-tch and i’m doing the same thing with my dermatologist
and if your lips touch my d-ck make sure that they filled with collagen, that’s barbie b-tch
hit my me if your -ss 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, n-gga, that’s my word
my n-ggas, that’s my word, n-gga, that’s my word
you n-ggas think you really f-cking with me? sure

- robb bank lyrics

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