The Sauce
[Eminem]It's all bad now man, it's all badCuz y'all done FUCKED up nowYEA! Ha ha, new shit, aiyyoI just want the whole world to knowThat I did not start this, but I will finish it
Comin' up, it never mattered what color you wasIf you could spit, then you could spitThat's it, that's what it wasBack when, motherfuckers was straight backpackin'Cipherin', fightin' for life in this rapFor the mic to get past, and you psyched and you gassedThen you hype, cuz you lastAnd you might whoop some assIf you lost, then you lostShake hands like a man and you swallowed itWhen the Unsigned Hype column in The Source was likeOur only source of lightWhen the mics used to mean something, a four was likeYou were the shit, now it's like the least you getThree and a half now just means you're a piece of shitFour and a half or fiveMeans you're Biggie, Jigga, Nas, or BenzinoShit I don't even think you realizeYou're playing with motherfuckers' livesI done watched Dre get fucked on The ChronicProbably cause I was on itNow you fucked me out of my mics twice, I let it slideI said I wouldn't hold my fuckin breath to get a fiveShit I was right, I'da fuckin died already tryinI swear to God, I never lie, I bet that's whyYou let that bitch give me that bullshit reviewI sat and took it, I ain't look at the shit, we knewYou'd probably try and fuck us with Obie and 50 too*Hock spit*, fuck a relationship we throughNo more Source for street credit, them days is deadRay's got AK's to Dave Mays' headEvery issue there's an eight page Made Men spreadWill somebody please tell whoever braids his headThat I am not afraid of this fuckin waste of leadOn my pencil, for me to write some shit this simpleSo listen closely, as I break it down and proceedThis old G's about to get smoked like rolled weedYou don't know me or my motherfucking motherYou motherfucking punkPut me on your fuckin cover just to sell your littleSell-out mag, I ain't mad, I feel badHere's an ad, here's a poster of Ray-Ray and his dadYou wanna talk about some shit that you don't know about, yea?Let's talk about how you're puttin your own son out thereTo try to eat off him because you missed your boatYou're never gonna blow, bitch, you're just too oldNo wonder you're sore now, lordy you're bored nowI'm pushing thirty, you're kickin forty's door downBitch this is war now, and you'll never beat meAll you do is cheat me out of QuotablesBut you know that you'll always see meOn your TV, cuz you've got to stay up 'tilThree in the morning to see your video played once on BETSo, hee hee hee, who has the last laugh? Aftermath, yeaSo on behalf of our whole staff, kiss our asshole cracksWe'll never fold or hold back, just know thatBenzino's wack, no matter how many times I say his nameHe'll never blow jackYou're better off tryin to bring RSO backLook at your track record, that's how far it goes backIt's extortion, and Ray owns a portionSo half of the staff up there is fresh out of jail from BostonBullyin and bossin Dave like a slaveThey completely brainwashed him and forced him to stayLocked in his own officeAfraid of the softest, fakest, wannabe gangsta in New YorkAnd it's pitiful, cuz I would have never said shit if you'daKept your mouth shut, bitch, now what?Hit it Clue, spit it Slay, new shit, exclusiveYo Lantern, yo Whoo Kid, you know what to do with thisUse it, I'm through, this is stupidI can't believe I stooped to this bullshit to do thisAnd who are you callin a bitch? Bitch!You OWE me