Pablo Pica**o
I am the greatest, the modern art Muhammad Ali
I melt faces, call me MC Dalí
Your whole body of work is a fluffy mountain of crap
You're the PBS version of Nickelback
But I think you must be a genius cause with zero training
You made millions teaching people how to s** at painting
Why don't you go back home and beat your brush, you chump
I can make better art with my wiener, Lump
Bob Ross
I'm so glad you could join me today
So I could teach you how to feel some joy when you paint
You're moody, little genius, always so serious
I know, you must be on your Blue Period
Your work is melancholic, I'm painting happy little trees
Call me Jackson Pollock, because I splatter MCs
With the voice that soothes, so let's do this
I twist you up like you're a Rubik's Cubist
Pablo Pica**o
Don't use that word like you know what it is
You painted thirty thousand pictures of bushes and sticks
Does your audience know that you stole your whole show?
You just ripped off your teacher and added an afro
My name is Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula
Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano
De la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Pica**o
Back, to, you, Bob
Bob Ross
Well Bob was dropping bombs like this is Guernica
I served twenty years, Air Force, United States of America
My technique will make your mistress weep
Put her to sleep, elbow drop her dreams, I go deep
And I keep it mellow like some Cadmium Yellow
I'm a bright like Titanium White kind of fellow
Don't believe in mistakes unless you step to me
Yo Pablo, you just got your happy little a** beat