This is a song about "Close"

Can't touch me, can't even close

I gotta teach hoes

Just to let you know, you are

You get close but no cigar

Ive come *this* close to snapping

And getting money is the song i sing

Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose

Memories, yeah, i hold em close,

Couldn't write lyrics close to em or aesop,

Bartender, no ice, bring another shot

They say them colors must be fake

Gotta close soon, don't want to masturbate

"you were malcolm, its not even close"

2 v's in the street, blowing trees with hoes

Listen close, and let your mind visualize

Never wanted so bad for 2pac to be alive