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"Pink Matter" lyrics by BIG BOI
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"Pink Matter"

And the peaches and the mangos that you could sell for me

[Verse 1:]
What do you think my brain is made for?
Is it just a container for the mind?
This great gray matter
Sensei replied: what is your woman?
Is she just a container for the child?
That soft pink matter

Cotton candy, imagine boo uh uh uh
Closed my eyes and fall into you you you
My God, she's giving me pleasure

[Verse 2:]
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 spared until we both grew tired
Nothing matters

Cotton candy
Imagine boo uh uh uh
Dim the lights and fall into a you you you
Like I...
You're giving me pleasure
Pleasure, pleasure
Of my matter

Hey hey

[Verse 3:]
Does it matter if she wanna be with me so it's cool
I make her call me BB 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 beautifullest things on a bed of roses
And with the coldest, we hit the hard wood floor
We sippin yack not mimosas
She's in my nigga lap, going HAM like she's supposed to
And she could make it clap if I told her
Or make her ass spread like the back of a cobra
Standing at attention like a soldier, a GI Joe man,
See me, I go in
Ass bitch nigga
Yea that nigga goes up in here
Like smoke through a chimney
Slow stroke cause she feelin me
Up in her nigga
Killing me softly, raw dog – 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 playa, make her go from classy to nasty
Nasty nasty nasty nasty
Duece loosh

[Verse 4:]
Since you've been gone I've been having withdrawls
You were such a habit to call
I ain't myself at all, had to tell myself no
She better with some fellow with a regular job
I didn't wanna get her involved
By dinner Mr. Benjamin was sittin in awe
Hops 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 all the clock stop, what am I? Hemingway?
She had the kind of body that would probably intimidate
Any of them that were unsouthern, not me cousin
If models are made for modeling
Thick girls are made for cuddling
Switch worlds and we could huddle in
Who needs another friend
I need to hold your hand
You need no other man
We flee to other lands

Gray 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 sakes go to hell
Knock knock on wood
Hey, hey, hey
You're good at being bad
You're bad at being good
For heaven's sake go to hell
Knock knock knock knock on wood

Well frankly when that ocean so my fuckin good
Make us walk on motehrfuckin wood
Make her on a fuckin plank
Make her rob a motherfuckin bank
Put no mask on and arrest her revolver

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