[Intro: Big Boi]
|
Remix
|
|
[Verse 1: Frank Ocean]
|
And the peaches and the mangos
|
You could sell for me
|
What do you think my brain is made for
|
Is it just a container for the mind
|
This great grey matter
|
Sensei replied what is your woman
|
Is she just a container for the child
|
That soft pink matter
|
Cotton candy Majin Buu
|
Close my eyes and fall into you
|
My god she¡¯s giving me pleasure
|
What if the sky and the stars are for show
|
And the aliens are watching live
|
From the purple matter
|
Sensei went quiet then violent
|
And we sparred until we both grew tired
|
Nothing mattered
|
Cotton candy Majin Buu
|
Dim the lights and fall into you
|
My god giving me pleasure
|
Pleasure pleasure pleasure
|
Pleasure over matter
|
|
[Verse 2: Big Boi]
|
Does it matter if she wanna be with ¡¦ or cool?
|
I make her call me BB King cause I give her the blues
|
not on purpose though, she was the perfect hoe
|
its just when I come over we do the grossest
|
most beautifullest things on a bed of roses
|
what the coldest? then we hit the hard wood floor
|
we sippin yac¡¯ not mimosas
|
she sittin my nigga lap going HAM like she supposed to
|
and she can make it clap if I told her
|
or make her ass spread like a back of a cobras
|
tell her add tities like a soldier, G.I.Joe man see me I go in
|
(yeah that nigga goes up in there)
|
like smoke through a chimney
|
slow stroke cause she feelin me up in her nigga
|
killin me softly rolled off she wants me
|
strong and black like a coffee, get off me
|
act a donkey, I pin her tail to the mattress
|
I been a player make her go from classic to nasty (nasty, nasty, nasty)
|
.. loose
|
|
[Verse 3: Andre 3000]
|
Since you been gone
|
I been having withdrawals
|
You were such a habit to call
|
I ain¡¯t myself at all had to tell myself naw
|
She¡¯s better with some fella with a regular job
|
I didn¡¯t wanna get her involved
|
By dinner Mr. Benjamin was sitting in awe
|
Hopped into my car; drove far
|
Far¡¯s too close and I remember
|
My memories no sharp
|
Butter knife, what a life, anyway
|
I¡¯m building y¡¯all a clock, stop
|
What am I Hemingway?
|
She had the kind of body
|
That would probably intimidate
|
Any of ¡®em that were un-southern
|
Not me cousin
|
If models are made for modeling
|
Thick girls are made for cuddlin¡¯
|
Switch worlds and we can huddle then
|
Who needs another friend
|
I need to hold your hand
|
You¡¯d need no other man
|
We¡¯d flee to other lands
|
|
Grey matter
|
Blue used to be my favorite color
|
Now I ain¡¯t got no choice
|
Blue matter
|
|
You¡¯re good at being bad
|
You¡¯re bad at being good
|
For heaven¡¯s sakes go to hell
|
Nah knock on wood
|
You¡¯re good at being bad
|
You¡¯re bad at being good
|
For heaven¡¯s sakes go to hell
|
Knock knock knock knock on wood
|
Well frankly when that ocean so muphucking good
|
Make her swab the muphucking wood
|
Make her walk the muphucking plank
|
Make her rob a muphucking bank
|
With no mask on and a rusty revolver
|
|
-----------------
|
Pink Matter (Remix)
|
Frank Ocean |