This is a song about "You got mail"

But you hate them navel kisses

Biggy's got you on this

Every visit to neimans, i swear don't even see a tag

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

Stop it, i'm hearin' the comments

And you ain't got no friends

Wale, d.c. thats me, huh

You say you got a nigga

Conversations got you blushing

Tell them niggas we coming

You got fired i got promoted

Bitches asses looking like dalmatians and shit

On the slow jam of love

Sometimes you got problems

Hoping that mama would sympathize cause she broke

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