Letra The Sauce de Eminem original
Eminem talkin'> Its all bad now man, it's all bad But yal done fucked up now Yeah ha ha, new shit, hey yo I just want the whole world to know: That I did not start this, but I will finish it Verse> Comin up it never mattered what color you was If you could spit then you could spit, that's it, that's what it was Back when, motherfckers was straight back packin Cypherin, fightin for life in this rap For the mic to get past and you psyched and you gasped And you hyped cuz you last and you might whoop some ass If you lost then you lost shake hands like a man And you swallowed it, when the unsigned hype column At The Source was like, the only source of light When the mics used to mean somethin, a four was like You were the shit, now it's like the least you get Three and a half now just means you a piece of shit Four and a half or five, means you Biggie, Jigga, Nas, Or Benzino I don't think you even realize You playin with motherfckers lives, I done watched Dre Get ed on The Chronic, probably cuz I was on it Now you fucked me outa my mics twice I let it slide I said I wouldn't hold my fcken breath to get a five Sht I was right, Ida fckin died already tryin I swear to God I never lie I bet that's why You let that btch give me that bullsht review I sat and took it, I aint look at the sht we knew You'd probly try to fck us with Obie and 50 too Fck a relationship 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 Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head That I am not afraid, he's just a fckin waste of lead On my pencil, for me to write some sht this simple So listen closely, as I break it down and proceed This old Gs bout to get smoked like rolled weed You don't know me or my motherfckin mother you motherfckin punk Put me on your fuckin cover just to sell your little sell out mag I aint mad I feel bad, heres an ad, heres a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad You wanna talk about some sht that you don't know about? ya Lets talk about how your puttin you own son out there To try to eat off him, cuz you missed your boat Your never gonna blow btch your just too old No wonder your sore now lordy your bored now Im pushin thirty your kickin fourty's door down Btch this is war now, and youl never beat me All you do is cheat me out of QUATABLES but you know That youl always see me on your TV Cuz you gotta stay up till three in the mornin To see your video played once on bet So he-he-he who has the last laugh? Aftermath ya so on behalf on our whole staff Kiss our ass-hole cracks we'll never fold or hold back Just know that Benzinos wack No matter how many times I say his name, hell never blow jack Your better off tryin to bring R-S-O back Look at your track record that's how far it goes back Its extortion n Ray own's a proportion So half of the staff up there is fresh outta jail from boston Bullyin and bossin, Dave like a slave they've completely brainwashed him And forced him to stay locked in his own office afraid of the softest Fakest, wannabe gangster in New York And it's pitiful, cuz I would have never said sht to you if you'd have kept your mouth shut Btch now what? Hit it Clue, spit it Slay New sht, exclusive, yo Lantern, Whoo Kid You know what to do with this: use it Im through, this is stupid, I can't believe I stooped to this Bullsht to do this... And who you callin a btch? Btch. You owe me.