This is a song about "Mail"

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

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

I'm a rare rat that be hunted by the super cat

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,

You'll drown tryna backstroke on concepts that i wrote

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