This is a song about "Mail"

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave

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

You'll drown tryna backstroke on concepts that i wrote

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

Greed written on her face when i bought her first bag

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

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

Like i'm only serving 20 rocks

When i'm in the dmv i hit the home wale

With parts of their body through the mail