This is a song about "Close"

I got my finger on the mothafuckin' pistol

Managers are merciful, close up, and personal.

Couldn't write lyrics close to em or aesop,

She's a white vegetarian, i'll get this blonde cock

This baphomet devil isn't close to benevolence,

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

Close/ your chapter of so-called "track classics"

She'll do anything for me, nothing but hits

You can search but you'll never find

don't think about better close your mind/

Love reefer and love sneaker above those

"you were malcolm, its not even close"

Ethnic whites in new york city, tight-knit, keep close,

Bitch i'm ballin' like i'm comin' off of free throws

Then i blow, i’ma close out the par

You get close but no cigar