This is a song about "Mail"

Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack

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

Ugh, walking on water and running on waves

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

6 in the morning, i’m gonna call wale

With parts of their body through the mail

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks

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

Trying to shower with soap, roaches all in the soap