This is a song about "Mail"

They know they shouldn't touch me like the third rail

With parts of their body through the mail

Blew the fuck up in gray clouds of thick smoke

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

For multiple years, witness peers catch gunshots

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

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

Now they mention my nigga with all the greats

To getting rich off a dream, i throw it the bag

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