"Fast car" is kind of a continuation of Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run." It has all the clawing your way to a better life, but in this case the protagonist never makes it with her love; in fact she is dragged back down by him.
There is still an amazing amount of hope and will in the lyrics; and the lyrics themselve rank and easy five. If only music was stronger it would be one of those great radio songs that you hear once a week 20 years after it was released. The imagery is almost tear-jerking ("City lights lay out before us", "Speeds so fast felt like I was drunk"), and the idea of starting from nothing and just driving and working and denigrating yourself for a chance at being just above poverty, then losing in the end is just painful and inspiring at the same time.
I just want a Picasso, in my casa
No, my castle
I'm a hassa, no I'm a asshole
I'm never satisfied, can't knock my hustle
I wanna Rothko, no I wanna 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, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
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
Because 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 ahead lean on that shit Blue
You own it
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
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
Till 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 god damn 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
No, my castle
I'm a hassa, no I'm a asshole
I'm never satisfied, can't knock my hustle
I wanna Rothko, no I wanna 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, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
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
Because 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 ahead lean on that shit Blue
You own it
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
Oh what a feeling
Picasso Baby, Ca Picasso baby
Ca ca Picasso Baby, Ca ca Picasso baby
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
Till 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 god damn 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
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Picasso Baby Lyrics as written by Chris Godbey Adrian Younge
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Anthem Entertainment, Exploration Group LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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