This is a song about "Close"

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

Can't touch me, can't even close

Couldn't write lyrics close to em or aesop,

On the top, was my pops, my momma screamin stop

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

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

Kill 'em all, o.f. is what i represent

It came so close to being the end

First off congratulations on the win

Close ya mouth son, i see ya drooling

Gotta close soon, don't want to masturbate

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

You're my river runnin' high, run deep, run wild

don't think about better close your mind/

Gold bottles, lot of bitches

Close your eyes my face is