This is a song about "Mail"

With parts of their body through the mail

Put these bitches on lock down, something like jail

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates

You're wasting space like junk mail and sperm whales,

Rappers wanna battle me, i have to mail their heads back

Track and field with the birds, i’m running em like track

Heard the sound of several gun shots

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

Sing the highs and lows, remember when i was broke

I'll mail them to your door and send a note