This is a song about "Mail"

They know they shouldn't touch me like the third rail

With parts of their body through the mail

So as soon as i hear y'al on some real pro black

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

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

And i don't take these bitches out, i make pajama dates

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

The street slang i be speakin in code

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks