This is a song about "Mail"

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

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

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

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

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

With parts of their body through the mail

Get a little smart, want to change yo tops

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

To soho, baby milo so dope

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