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'Pink Matter (Remix)' Lyrics - Frank Ocean (Ft. Andre 3000 & Big Boi)
Here is Pink Matter (Remix) Lyrics by Frank Ocean Ft. Andre 3000 & Big Boi

[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

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