Pink Matter

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

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, oh, oh, ooh, ooh
Dim the lights and fall into you, you, you, ooh-ooh
My God, giving me pleasure, pleasure
Pleasure, pleasure
Pleasure over matter

Hey, hey
Since you been gone, I been havin' 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 sittin' 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 bein' bad, yeah
You're bad at bein' good, oh
For heaven's sakes, go to hell
Knock, knock on wood, hey

You're good at bein' bad (you're bad at bein' good)
You're bad at bein' good (for heaven's sakes, go to hell)
For heaven's sakes, go to hell (knock, knock, knock on wood)
Knock, knock, knock, knock on wood

Well, frankly, when that ocean so motherfuckin' good
Make her swab the motherfuckin' wood
Make her walk the motherfuckin' plank
Make her rob a motherfuckin' bank
With no mask on and a rusty revolver



Credits
Writer(s): Andre Benjamin, Christopher Breaux, James Ryan Wuihun Ho
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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