This is a song about "Mail"

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

Now they mention my nigga with all the greats

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

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

Money in a bag, stones be yellow as a cat

With parts of their body through the mail

6 in the morning, i’m gonna call wale

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

And i be drinking all the brown straight, no coke