This is a song about "Mail"

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

And yea i should’ve seen the signs by my first quote

Might want to purchase some game, homey your shit is so wack

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

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

With parts of their body through the mail

But i come on the weekends, pablo jail

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

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave