Аудио публичной страницы:  [bad word] oceanfrank

[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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] lap going HAM like she supposed to
 and she can make it clap if I told her
 or make her [bad word] 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 [bad word] goes up in there)
 like smoke through a chimney
 slow stroke cause she feelin me up in her [bad word]  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 [bad word]  Nah knock on wood
 You’re good at being bad
 You’re bad at being good
 For heaven’s sakes go to [bad word]  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 [bad word] revolver