This is a song about "Mail"

Heard the sound of several gun shots

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

With parts of their body through the mail

Put these bitches on lock down, something like jail

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

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

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

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

Spent a long time coming up this road