This is a song about "Close"

Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol

Managers are merciful, close up, and personal.

No, no, we are not those

Memories, yeah, i hold em close,

I kill shows and bag more clothes

Woo dame that was too close

A close family, and never more unrelenting agony.

The therapist nicknamed me kid cudi, i killed my fifth buddy

The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its

This baphomet devil isn't close to benevolence,

"you were malcolm, its not even close"

Listen b, just give my stylist kudos

There's a breathless hush in the close tonight

I used to write rhymes, all day and all night

Gold bottles, lot of bitches

Close your eyes my face is