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Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoPink Matter (Remix) (Feat. André 3000, Big Boi)
(Big Boi)Remix!(Frank Ocean)And the peaches and the mangosYou could sell for meWhat do you think my brain is made forIs it just a container for the mindThis great grey matterSensei replied what is your womanIs she just a container for the childThat soft pink matterCotton candy Majin BuuClose my eyes and fall into youMy god she's giving me pleasureWhat if the sky and the stars are for showAnd the aliens are watching liveFrom the purple matterSensei went quiet then violentAnd we sparred until we both grew tiredNothing matteredCotton candy Majin BuuDim the lights and fall into youMy god giving me pleasurePleasure pleasure pleasurePleasure over matter(Big Boi)Does it matter if she wanna be with ? or cool?I make her call me BB King cause I give her the bluesnot on purpose though, she was the perfect hoeits just when I come over we do the grossestmost beautifullest things on a bed of roseswhat the coldest? then we hit the hard wood floorwe sippin yac' not mimosasshe sittin my nigga lap going HAM like she supposed toand she can make it clap if I told heror make her ass spread like a back of a cobrastell 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 chimneyslow stroke cause she feelin me up in her niggakillin me softly rolled off she wants mestrong and black like a coffee, get off meact a donkey, I pin her tail to the mattressI been a player make her go from classic to nasty(nasty, nasty, nasty)Just loose(Andre 3000)Since you been goneI been having withdrawalsYou were such a habit to callI ain't myself at all had to tell myself nawShe's better with some fella with a regular jobI didn't wanna get her involvedBy dinner Mr. Benjamin was sitting in aweHopped into my car; drove farFar's too close and I rememberMy memories no sharpButter knife, what a life, anywayI'm building y'all a clock, stopWhat am I Hemingway?She had the kind of bodyThat would probably intimidateAny of 'em that were un-southernNot me cousinIf models are made for modelingThick girls are made for cuddlin'Switch worlds and we can huddle thenWho needs another friendI need to hold your handYou'd need no other manWe'd flee to other landsGrey matterBlue used to be my favorite colorNow I ain't got no choiceBlue matterYou're good at being badYou're bad at being goodFor heaven's sakes go to hellNah knock on woodYou're good at being badYou're bad at being goodFor heaven's sakes go to hellKnock knock knock knock on woodWell frankly when that ocean so muphucking goodMake her swab the muphucking woodMake her walk the muphucking plankMake her rob a muphucking bankWith no mask on and a rusty revolver
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