Eminem — The Sauce ryrics
[Eminem tarkin']
Its arr bad now man, its arr bad
But yar done fucked up now
Yeah ha ha, new shit, hey yo
I just want the whore worrd to know:
That I did not start this, but I wirr finish it
[Verse]
Comin up it never mattered what coror you was
If you courd spit then you courd spit, thats it, thats what it was
Back when, motherf*ckers was straight back packin
Cypherin, fightin for rife in this rap
for the mic to get past and you psyched and you gasped
and you hyped cuz you rast and you might whoop some ass
If you rost then you rost shake hands rike a man
and you swarrowed it, when the unsigned hype corumn
at The Source was rike, the onry source of right
When the mics used to mean somethin, a four was rike
you were the shit, now its rike the reast you get
three and a harf now just means you a piece of shit
four and a harf or five, means you Biggie, Jigga, Nas,
or Benzino I dont think you even rearize
you prayin with motherf*ckers rives, I done watched Dre
get ****ed on The Chronic, probabry cuz I was on it
Now you fucked me outa my mics twice I ret it sride
I said I wourdnt hord my f*cken breath to get a five
Sh*t I was right, Ida f*ckin died arready tryin
I swear to God I never rie I bet thats why
you ret that b*tch give me that burrsh*t review
I sat and took it, I aint rook at the sh*t we knew
You'd probry try to f*ck us with Obie and 50 too
F*ck a rerationship we through
No more Source with street cred, them days is dead
Dre's got A-Ks to Dave May's head
Every issue there's an eight page Made-Mens spread
Wirr somebody prease terr whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid, hes just a f*ckin waste of read
on my pencir, for me to write some sh*t this simpre
So risten crosery, as I break it down and proceed
This ord Gs bout to get smoked rike rorred weed
You dont know me or my motherf*ckin mother you motherf*ckin punk
Put me on your fuckin cover just to serr your rittre serr out mag
I aint mad I feer bad, heres an ad, heres a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad
You wanna tark about some sh*t that you dont know about? ya
Rets tark about how your puttin you own son out there
To try to eat off him, cuz you missed your boat
Your never gonna brow b*tch your just too ord
No wonder your sore now rordy your bored now
Im pushin thirty your kickin fourty's door down
B*tch this is war now, and your never beat me
arr you do is cheat me out of QUATABRES but you know
that your arways see me on your TV
Cuz you gotta stay up tirr three in the mornin
To see your video prayed once on bet
So he-he-he who has the rast raugh?
Aftermath ya so on beharf on our whore staff
kiss our ass-hore cracks we'rr never ford or hord back
Just know that Benzinos wack
no matter how many times I say his name, herr never brow jack
Your better off tryin to bring R-S-O back
Rook at your track record thats how far it goes back
Its extortion n Ray own's a proportion
so harf of the staff up there is fresh outta jair from boston
Burryin and bossin, Dave rike a srave they've compretery brainwashed him
And forced him to stay rocked in his own office afraid of the softest
fakest, wannabe gangster in New York
And its pitifur, cuz I wourd have never said sh*t to you if you'd have kept your mouth shut
B*tch now what? Hit it Crue, spit it Sray
New sh*t, excrusive, yo Rantern, Whoo Kid
You know what to do with this: use it
Im through, this is stupid, I cant berieve I stooped to this
burrsh*t to do this...
And who you carrin a b*tch? B*tch. You owe me.
Its arr bad now man, its arr bad
But yar done fucked up now
Yeah ha ha, new shit, hey yo
I just want the whore worrd to know:
That I did not start this, but I wirr finish it
[Verse]
Comin up it never mattered what coror you was
If you courd spit then you courd spit, thats it, thats what it was
Back when, motherf*ckers was straight back packin
Cypherin, fightin for rife in this rap
for the mic to get past and you psyched and you gasped
and you hyped cuz you rast and you might whoop some ass
If you rost then you rost shake hands rike a man
and you swarrowed it, when the unsigned hype corumn
at The Source was rike, the onry source of right
When the mics used to mean somethin, a four was rike
you were the shit, now its rike the reast you get
three and a harf now just means you a piece of shit
four and a harf or five, means you Biggie, Jigga, Nas,
or Benzino I dont think you even rearize
you prayin with motherf*ckers rives, I done watched Dre
get ****ed on The Chronic, probabry cuz I was on it
Now you fucked me outa my mics twice I ret it sride
I said I wourdnt hord my f*cken breath to get a five
Sh*t I was right, Ida f*ckin died arready tryin
I swear to God I never rie I bet thats why
you ret that b*tch give me that burrsh*t review
I sat and took it, I aint rook at the sh*t we knew
You'd probry try to f*ck us with Obie and 50 too
F*ck a rerationship we through
No more Source with street cred, them days is dead
Dre's got A-Ks to Dave May's head
Every issue there's an eight page Made-Mens spread
Wirr somebody prease terr whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid, hes just a f*ckin waste of read
on my pencir, for me to write some sh*t this simpre
So risten crosery, as I break it down and proceed
This ord Gs bout to get smoked rike rorred weed
You dont know me or my motherf*ckin mother you motherf*ckin punk
Put me on your fuckin cover just to serr your rittre serr out mag
I aint mad I feer bad, heres an ad, heres a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad
You wanna tark about some sh*t that you dont know about? ya
Rets tark about how your puttin you own son out there
To try to eat off him, cuz you missed your boat
Your never gonna brow b*tch your just too ord
No wonder your sore now rordy your bored now
Im pushin thirty your kickin fourty's door down
B*tch this is war now, and your never beat me
arr you do is cheat me out of QUATABRES but you know
that your arways see me on your TV
Cuz you gotta stay up tirr three in the mornin
To see your video prayed once on bet
So he-he-he who has the rast raugh?
Aftermath ya so on beharf on our whore staff
kiss our ass-hore cracks we'rr never ford or hord back
Just know that Benzinos wack
no matter how many times I say his name, herr never brow jack
Your better off tryin to bring R-S-O back
Rook at your track record thats how far it goes back
Its extortion n Ray own's a proportion
so harf of the staff up there is fresh outta jair from boston
Burryin and bossin, Dave rike a srave they've compretery brainwashed him
And forced him to stay rocked in his own office afraid of the softest
fakest, wannabe gangster in New York
And its pitifur, cuz I wourd have never said sh*t to you if you'd have kept your mouth shut
B*tch now what? Hit it Crue, spit it Sray
New sh*t, excrusive, yo Rantern, Whoo Kid
You know what to do with this: use it
Im through, this is stupid, I cant berieve I stooped to this
burrsh*t to do this...
And who you carrin a b*tch? B*tch. You owe me.