The Sauce

It's all messed up now man, it's all messed up
Cuz y'all done messed up now
Yea! ha ha, new stuff, hey
I just want the whole world to know
That I did not start this, but I will finish it

Coming up, it never mattered what color you were
If you could rap, then you could rap
That's it, that's what it was
Back when, people were just rapping
Freestyling, fighting for life in this rap
For the mic to get past, and you're excited and you gasped
Then you're hyped, cuz you last
And you might kick some ass
If you lost, then you lost
Shake hands like a man and you accepted it
When the unsigned hype column in the source was like
The only source of life
When the mics used to mean something, a four was like
You were the best, now it's like the least you get
Three and a half now just means you're a piece of crap
Four and a half or five
Means you're biggie, jigga, nas, or benzino
Shit I don't even think you realize
You're playing with people's lives
I watched Dre get messed up on the chronic
Probably cuz I was on it
Now you messed me out of my mics twice, I let it slide
I said I wouldn't hold my breath to get a five
Shit I was right, I would've died already trying
I swear to god, I never lie, I bet that's why
You let that woman give me that crap review
I sat and took it, I didn't look at the crap, we knew
You'd probably try and mess us with Obie and 50 too
*hock spit*, screw a relationship we through
No more source for street cred, those days are dead
Ray's got AKs to Dave Mays' head
Every issue there's an eight page made men spread
Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid of this waste of lead
On my pencil, for me to write some crap this simple
So listen closely, as I break it down and proceed
This old G's about to get smoked like rolled weed
You don't know me or my damn mother
You damn punk
Put me on your damn cover just to sell your little
Sell-out mag, I ain't mad, I feel bad
Here's an ad, here's a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad
You wanna talk about some crap that you don't know about, yea?
Let's talk about how you're putting your own son out there
To try to eat off him because you missed your boat
You're never gonna blow, jerk, you're just too old
No wonder you're sore now, lordy you're bored now
I'm pushing thirty, you're kicking forty's door down
Jerk this is war now, and you'll never beat me
All you do is cheat me out of quotables
But you know that you'll always see me
On your TV, cuz you've got to stay up 'til
Three in the morning to see your video played once on BET
So, hee hee hee, who has the last laugh? aftermath, yea
So on behalf of our whole staff, kiss our asshole cracks
We'll never fold or hold back, just know that
Benzino's crap, no matter how many times I say his name
He'll never blow jack
You're better off trying to bring RSO back
Look at your track record, that's how far it goes back
It's extortion, and Ray owns a portion
So half of the staff up there is fresh out of jail from Boston
Bullying and bossing Dave like a slave
They completely brainwashed him and forced him to stay
Locked in his own office
Afraid of the softest, fakest, wannabe gangsta in New York
And it's pitiful, cuz I would have never said crap if you'd
Kept your mouth shut, jerk, now what?
Hit it Clue, spit it Slay, new stuff, exclusive
Yo Lantern, yo Who Kid, you know what to do with this
Use it, I'm through, this is stupid
I can't believe I stooped to this crap to do this
And who you calling a jerk... jerk?
You owe me