Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Sauce, artist - De La Soul.
Date of issue: 02.03.2023
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Sauce |
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah |
Hold that, hold that, hold that |
Yo all that, all that trying |
Y’all, i told y’all about trying |
Trying is later on man |
Can we try something for the ladies |
Can we try something for the ladies |
Can we do that De La |
Let’s get that goin' on man |
Told y’all about those messages and shit man |
We get to that later man, know what I mean |
Let’s just do something for the ladies man |
Let’s get a chorus goin' on or something |
Let’s pop a chorus off, ya know what I mean |
Let’s do that right now, let’s get that goin' on |
Let’s try that out |
I see you real niggas do fake things sometimes |
One of them is grabbin' on his mic to rhymes |
So let us demonstrate the right way ya need to place |
Yo, it’s De La up in ya face |
Better yet ya whole scene, here to pull in the green |
With Philly Black |
Just layin' back, raisin' my stacks |
'Cause how they want it I give it to em' rock or the raw |
Yo it really don’t matter son, some hot shit for y’all |
To go cop at the store, I spit, kick at ya jaw |
Leave you on the floor on all fours, you slaw |
We burn fast in black flag lands |
Bringin' herds and caravans |
And heat rock rhythms, you Blink-182 times |
In between I do mines |
Showboat refs, I put y’all niggas on deck |
Yeah son y’all faggots are soft |
I been through, carried the torch |
Recognized and done married a dwarf |
So in-laws pay a writer’s fee |
My stizzy sets a wiz bitch’s eye in me |
Pissy in a rizzy |
Indian wife I flip em' behind reachin' for sobriety |
Blew north, never find me |
Reside in this state of mind |
Keep my temple developmental |
Projects, front-line essential |
Reminded of concubines and evil that men do |
Cut off Ginsu, carry a brand new |
Vandle issues, brandin' issues |
Grabbin' tissues, like you didn’t know you had it in you |
I live it up y’all, givin' you what y’all |
Need and can’t call, carry the ball |
Like a spit-kicker should and ya wish ya could |
Hold it down like the digital who stitched the hood |
Better yet the whole globe, light it up like a strobe |
While you froze panicin' |
Went from man to maniquin |
We them peaceful rap stars |
That can still jab ya in ya face |
Leave ya shit redder than Mars |
The sauce and shit, of course we it |
The coffee shit, groundin' beef like Maxwell House |
Go ask the house |
We representatives |
Go call ya Senators |
Change laws in rap, renovate ya landscape |
The man takes for sixteen |
And pull a paragraph up out the tango, hang it like Van Gogh |
Water broke flows to c-sec, you read xecs |
Miscarried the rap, abortin' ya whole fort |