Текст Frank Ocean – Pink Matter (Remix)
Текст:
Big Boi
Remix!
Frank
And the peaches and the mangos you could sell for me…
Frank Ocean
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, ooh-ooh-ooohhh..
Close my eyes and, fall into you, you, yoooouuuu…
My god, she’s givin’ me — pleeeeasure… whoooa-na-na
What if the sky and the stars are for show
and the, aliens are watchin’ live?
From the purple, matter…
Sensei went quiet, then violent
And we, sparred until we both grew tired
Nothing mattered.. cotton candy, Majin Buu, ooh, ooh, OOH-oooohh
Dim the lights and, fall into — YOU, YOU, YOOOUUU-ohhooooohhh
MY GOD, givin’ me pleeeeasure~! PLEEEEEASUREEEE..
PLEASURE, pleasure — pleasure over matter…
(Heeeeey…)
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
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’s
Down there in her titties 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 feelin’ me up in her, nigga
Killin’ 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, NAAAASTY…
breathes hard
to sloosh
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 modelin’, 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
plays guitar solo
chopped and screwed
Grey matter…
Blue used to be my favorite color
Now I ain’t got no choice; blue matter…
singing
You’re good at being bad (yeah)
You’re bad at being good (ohhh)
For heaven’s sakes go to hell
Kn-knock on wood, heeey
You’re good at being bad (you’re bead at bein’ good)
You’re bad at being good (for heaven’s sakes go to hell, knock on wood)
For heaven’s sakes go to hell
Knock knock knock knock on wood
Well (Frankly) when that (Ocean) so muh’fuckin’ good
Make her swab the muh’fuckin’ wood
Make her walk the muh’fuckin’ plank
Make her rob a muh’fuckin’ bank
with no mask on and a rusty revolver