This is a song about "Mail"

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

Ain't nothin funny, fuck a joke

But the fifteen credits had a nigga off track

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

Ridin’ in a cl, hope i never see jail

With parts of their body through the mail

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

Trying to shake, the crates and fakes and snakes

Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks