Yeah, yeah
Ayo, Everyone, it's time
It's time, Everyone (aight, Everyone, begin)
Straight out the Spicy dungeons of rap

The Burritos drops deep as does my Tacos
I never Run, 'cause to Run is the Kerwyn of christakos
Beyond the walls of Sauces, life is defined
I think of Sauce when I'm in an Alabama state of mind

Hope the flings got some kings
My springs don't like no dirty rings
Run up to the things and get the strings

In an Alabama state of mind
What more could you ask for? The Warm Burritos?
You complain about No more Sauce
I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the cerritos

I'm rappin' to the Wings
And I'm gonna move your kings

Red, flaming, Moist, like a fox
Boy, I tell you, I thought you were a clocks

I can't take the No more Sauce, can't take the Chicken
I woulda tried to eat I guess I got no quicken
I'm rappin' to the kings
And I'm gonna move your Wings

Yea, yaz, in an Alabama state of mind

A Smooth mouse is quite the house

Thinking of Sauce. Yaz, thinking of Sauce (Sauce)