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letra de one for the ladies - matthew tressbraker

mother just please put in the ear plugs, ok?
because i have to kick my sex styles and i don’t want you to hear this. in order to appeal to and titillate the basest desires of my core audience i have to kick my sex styles. i have to pander to the lowest common denominator here mother. that’s how people get famous. ok? just please put in the earplugs, ok? thank you

action! i said, “action!” here we go

yo it’s matty-t a.k.a. matthew tressbraker, a.k.a. slade rhinestone, ryl, buck wilder, the cupid stunt. you know i got more nicknames aliases than genitalia does

since ya boy be gettin’ some attention on the social media ya know i be receivin’ all kinds of private messages. from the ladies. you know they gettin’ all curious. how they do. and they’re all like:

“hey matty! being so proficient at slam poetry you must be stackin mad paper and obviously you have no trouble attracting numerous sexual partners. you’re like a modern day casanova. but when you gonna kick one for us ladies?”

alright. alright. alright. first of all a lot of that goes without saying. pen game like mine? shit. i get coin. i’m a artist with quill. i been had hunnids. and casanova and i do share a mutual preference for prophylactics made from sheep intestines. so there’s that

and what am i gonna say? if these girls wanna come back to the crib for a little freaky-deek what am i gon’ do? i can’t say no. that’s why i got that that circular bed on rotation. that’s why i got that chocolate fondue fountain in the centre all runnin’ 24/7. mirrors on the ceiling. i’m all about it. i’m livin’ that life. so i gotta give these girls a taste? alright i’ll give ‘em a taste of:

caviar on pink steel strapped in a pleather harness
snails and oysters, a trail of moisture face down in wet carpet
rug burn all over elbows and knees and i don’t give a d-mn, scarlet
cushions, pillows and sheets tucked up under each armpit
girls, you’ll catch hot pearls in your fishnets when i drop ’em on your starfish
matty’s spittin’ some game atcha. lemme get this shit started

yo, check it. yo, the concepts of cash-money and $€xxx are so inseparable to ‘tress
i spell it dollar sign euro symbol to the triple-x
hit that bull’s eye, hard grind, cross it off my list
that’s a hat trick, combo, new personal best
let’s go three in a row. that’s tic-tac-toe to your o-face
another gold performance. an award in my showcase

i’ll slide into the room: socks, briefs and a bow-tie
i lost my shirt on a session of poker when i pushed it all in went for broke or all or nothing
i’m her 5 card stud. she’s a queen of the clubs used to livin’ at the top
playin’ no limits hold ‘em gotta give ‘er all i got
we shuffle up the order: turn, river to the flop
stackin’ up them chips at a hunnid bucks a pop
and i’ll keep jackin’ diamonds ‘til my heart stops or i’ve pocketed the pot
and played that ace of spades, baby! that ace of spades!

see it don’t phase me when you want to go crazy
leather whips, a mask, code-words for safety
electrified nipple clamps like hey bro don’t taze me
we’ll sip patron. dump that blow. we’ll blaze weed
we can settle in and make the waterbed wavy
raise the heat for days. we only stoppin’ to change sheets
get all hot enough to melt metal: a spark to acetylene
tip them styrofoam cups cuz girl i’m already lean
no need for codeine, ice, sprite, purple promethazine
we can break it bad without that blue methamphetamine
make the whole world jealous of us all envious green
red-faced and breathy, heavin’, breathin’, heavy with the spit
i’m the white version of danny brown’s “black brad pitt”
i’ll spray 50 shades of grey and paint a double rainbow on your tits
it’s like a mix of jackson pollock and pric-sso the way i drip, splash and scrawl it
aren’t you glad i penned you a sonnet? but when i get up on it to dip this quill in your pink
you’ll yell omg omfg with three rows of exclamation points ‘til you’ve ruined the sheet
so with swiveling hips i’ll write the alphabet in cursive on your pelvis
hope i’m not just scratching the surface. your satisfaction is worth it
so when i swerve and reverse it’s because that practice makes perfect and

those calligraphic flourishes and embellishments perhaps resulted in nothing intelligible
but that memory’s indelible
and i bet you’ll be tellin’ all your friends on your cellular. like hell you will!
it says right on my package baby “ribbed for your pleasure”
my penchant for perfectionism is evident in my every endeavour
whether it’s a timely smack on that -ss or a caress as soft as a feather
my touch is legally tender. livin’ the life of leisurely pleasure

heard you’ve been seekin’ forever for a hand out. livin’ hand to mouth, girl
yo take this treasure trail to the land down south
now we’re talkin bout the opposite of good clean fun. a little freaky-deek
some dirty deeds could get done dirt cheap
when we stay in this weekend rip them curtains off the rails let the neighbourhood peek in

arm and a leg in the cushions i gotcha hard up for a fast buck
on the sofa but you’re lookin’ so fuckin’ ready to blow it all: supernova!
just take it to the tip of the pole or barely a quarter
we could make it rain, dear but that’s a caribou in north america
i won’t drop that dime i get daring too and i’m not caring who knows it
we make a mess and we clean up that paper ain’t just for blew noses
you know in canada even our racing schooners used to do double duty
full chests in my hold and the back’s stacked with booty and loot
you wanna go loonie-toonie? spend a little time in close quarters?
shit, it’s not like i’d flip if you gave pretty penny a jingle. that chick be thrifty
wooden nickle and i’m willing to mingle so let’s share fifty-fifty
it never fails. heads or tails. whether you prefer to be treated like a queen or an animal
you said you just realized why we’ve got beavers on our nickels
when i’m five fingers deep past my second knuckles
i reckon the ringin’ rhythm your belt buckle’s makin’s
enough to wake up your husband alert him he’s been cuckold
i’ll wish him well, insert some for good luck and we kiss and tell him he’s welcome and withdraw drippin’ honey
put that money where your mouth is and i’ll pull out on your tummy
and i’m out

yo that’s matty-t. you know how i be. i’ll bust any style. ain’t shit to me

alright. cut!

ok mother. it’s all finished now. no. no this had nothing to do with the cashier at the pharmacy. no, i don’t even think she was winking at me. it was more like she had a nervous tic or something like that. mother, you know that you’re the only girl for me. ok but just one on the cheek, ok?

- matthew tressbraker

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