This is a song about "Mail"

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

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

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

Helicopters on the set of my sales

Smoke that mark mcgwire strong, oakland a no basic smoke

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

You can ask los, i was like a young gale

With parts of their body through the mail

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

Get a little smart, want to change yo tops