Pink Matter

Album: Channel Orange (2012)
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  • And the peaches and the mangos
    That 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, oh, oh, oh
    Close my eyes and fall into you, you, you
    My God, she's giving me pleasure

    Oh, no, no
    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
    We sparred until we both grew tired
    Nothing mattered
    Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh, oh, oh
    Dim the lights and fall into you, you, you, ooh
    My God, giving me pleasure
    Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure
    Pleasure over matter

    (Hey, hey)
    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 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 memory's 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

    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, hey
    You're good at being bad (you're bad at being 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 muhfucking good
    Make her swab the muhfucking wood
    Make her walk the muhfucking plank
    Make her rob a muhfucking bank
    With no mask on and a rusty revolver Writer/s: Andre Benjamin, Christopher Breaux, James Ryan Wuihun Ho
    Publisher: BMG Rights Management
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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