This is a song about "Mail"

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

And i be drinking all the brown straight, no coke

Roll it up and ensure that everything's fat

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

With parts of their body through the mail

See i'm ahead but you stay the snail

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

I don't do dishes but i throw away your plates

Look at what hell got, mail from fish scale docks

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops