This is a song about "Close"

"you were malcolm, its not even close"

I kill shows and bag more clothes

Close ya mouth son, i see ya drooling

They locking us up for the drugs that we doing

Listen b, just give my stylist kudos

And naw i'm not the best but dammit i'm close

Close your eyes my face is

And i don't rely on no bitches

Memories, yeah, i hold em close,

You feel it from your head to your toes

Listen close, and let your mind visualize

As your family dies, and my family rise

They must come with a bible, swine flu, and a pistol

Managers are merciful, close up, and personal.

Ain't no women at the shows

You're getting too close