Rapper Jay Z’s ‘Picasso Baby’ – the video and the lyrics


The wonderful Criticismism does a great job breaking down the lyrics to Jay Z’s “Picasso Baby.” In the song, Jay Z trades a Rothko for a brothel and, in an apparent nod to Jonathan Richman, calls himself “an asshole” and “the modern-day Picasso.”

The rap artist will star in an HBO special – a “Performance Art Film” – which airs Friday, August 2nd – only in the States.

Below the video from the live performance of the song at the Pace Gallery, and the lyrics.

The Criticismism break down / take down is definitely worth a read… we link to it here.

[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
Bacons and turkey bacons, smell the aroma

Oh, what a feeling
Picasso baby

[Verse 2]
It ain’t hard to tell, I’m the new Jean Michel
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


“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.”

[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

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