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Love isn't a word, but a kind of art
Critics will pick till it falls apart
I can't believe i swallowed your lie
It made me sick inside
Oh I, am
Escape is so cheap of alcohol and whores
Mine's the sanity of exclusive gun laws

Art critics say porno's easily obscene
Late show retards Dice Clay is
You're a portable mess
Carpetbagger spearheading tear peddling pretentious art critics, orphans
Trying to dismiss those pioneering their fortunes
You're
'Cause art critics just artists that never made it
What I care what you sayin', I'm too busy creatin'
I could tell that ya' some crabs, hatin' on the low
Of a conqueror, ask Alex, ask Christopher
Seven figure checks, they require my signature
Drive-by shootin's, homicides are vehicular
Now fuck your art critic
I don't think about art when I'm working
I don't listen to what art critics say
I'm not a real person
I want to make paintings that look as if they
I don't think about art when I'm working
I don't listen to what art critics say
I'm not a real person
I want to make paintings that look as if they
started hitting my own supply
A fiend getting high, fucking with googly eyes
'Til an art critic came and gave my shit a try
Now I'm on top of the world
Feel
east
Live free constant elevate til I’m 6 feet
Bring a elephant to the club like big meech
Ripped sheets of acid Sunset Cliffs Beach
Art critics
with a text by 19th century art critic Ludwig Pietsch on a painting by Christian Körner

Auch in des edeln Hirsches Brust, so gut wie in der des
gets better
Just gradually less surprising
And the results are all in from the art critics
So why am I still staring at your painting analyzing
Oh no no
penning songs every bar is revolutionary art
So with every sentence I'm reinventing a Renaissance 
And art critics thought I must be a fraud
called me a con
thinking big should be the beginning where we start
And we can work it backwards thats how you master making this art
Critics take you apart but I don't care
this painting ourselves 
So just sit back and relax and scatter limbs like Picasso, 
Spatter blood like Pollack 

Art critics are standing by
visionary works,
a gallery of insane genetic crossbreeding,
a gallery underestimated by the great art critics. 

Finding corpses is very easy,
when you
work of art

My critics say I use too much blue
But that´s my style sinece I lost you
Other artists like to work in paints
But I´m a genius with teardrop
It is not art but heart which wins the wide world over
It is not art
Too much pose
The critics may bow to art
It gives us pleasure

Unless your heart
your salary
You know who you are, what you have to be
Be your own boss, you could actually
Defy your own odds, own physics, no gravity
Be your own art
people
Stick it up your own butt
But oh no, it's sewn up
Can't fart, you blow up
My lyrics are art
But critics are harsh
And tell me to grow up
But when I
Starks
Dunk from the Arch
Built an Arch for the Love of the Art
Even when critics try to tear it apart
Create, create, create
Elevate up to Mars
Forget
Art is difficult, and critics so easy
So wait a while before uttering your shit
Take a look at you, are you really better?
The morning when you crap
of critics not euphemistics at heart
Art is all I want and it's all I need I don't have the want to give into greed
Write out my part of this life that I lead
talk through it, it's an art to it
Let the critics praise, let the charts do it
As I burn through this money, no thought to it
Eighty cents could save
and all do pass;
When Art turns into Critic and
Crawls right up its own arse;

When workers are invisible –
Banned – banished – despised;
And finally we

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