This is a song about "Mail"

With parts of their body through the mail

But i come on the weekends, pablo jail

While i got my hand on the tec, wave

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

Make sure your fuckin' feelings end up up in a glad bag

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

Third letter quote hey ace i'm addicted to coke

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

I'm from a cocaine block, with some plain clothes cops

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks