This is a song about "Mail"

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

While i got my hand on the tec, wave

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

A bunch of fucking wolves and rats having niggers the size of shaq

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks

It's ironic they call me a fresh breath no joke

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

We broke and that dough coming slow as a snail

With parts of their body through the mail