Letra de Pink Matter (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

[Verso 2 - Big Boi]
Doesn't matter if she want to be with me
So it's cool
I make her call me B.B. King because I give her the blues
But not on purpose, though
She was the perfect ho
-stess, when I come over, we would do the grossest
Most beautifulest things on a bed of roses
It would be the coldest when you hit the hardwood floor
We sippin' Yak, not mimosas
She's in my naked lap, going ham like she supposed to
And she could make it clap if I told her
Or make her ass spread like the back of a cobra
Standing at attention like a soldier
A G.I. Joe, man
See me, I go in
Ask a bitch, nigga
Yeah, that nigga goes up in it
Like smoke through a chimney
Slow stroke, cause she feeling me
Up in her, nigga
Killing me softly, raw dog she wants me
Strong and black like her coffee
Get off me
Act a donkey, I pin her tail to the mattress
I've been a player
Make her go from classy to nasty
Nasty, nasty, nasty, nasty
To sloosh

[Verso 3 - André 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

[Puente]
Grey matter
Blue used to be my favorite color
Now I ain't got no choice
Blue matter

[Outro - Andre 3000]
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