This is a song about "Mustard"

From the ghetto to the 'burbs, know we meant, every word

Need more flava like mustard,then mustered and mastered

That's why i keep my pistol when i walk the streets

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

You're so white, my blinkers don't work

He eats rows of em with mustard

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

Oh, a taco joke, domo smoke, i heard