This is a song about "Mail"

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

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

Hi my name is bob and i work at my job

Heard you might be comin home, just got bail

With parts of their body through the mail

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

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

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

Charcoal seats gray, drop tops like release dates