This is a song about "Mustard"

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

Just to see, these metaphors spread a course like mustard seeds

You're faker than a german hot-dog with no mustard,

Riding that big body, shorty be hitting the curb

He eats rows of em with mustard

Its no days off, although i'm bored to work

Need more flava like mustard,then mustered and mastered

Oh, a taco joke, domo smoke, i heard