This is a song about "Closest homies"

Bullets flying, fake homies lying

I'm a king.you should kiss my pinky ring

And to my soldiers rocking green in the country

Mobbing with the homies and family

Cold to the bone, holdin' my claim / as being dope with the flows n' closest to fame

Y'all all loafin goin through the motion hit me on the rock don't drop no cocaine

That’s like a complacent atheist is asking for jesus

The closest i've ever been in hell was expanding my lungs

That's breaking bad, closest to the crack game that your eyes'll get

And i'm somali so i guess i'm just tryna eat bread

Peep this prose, closest thing to hopping out this zone.

Getting brain when i’m talking on the phone

Or your closest friend gets put in a hole

Open up your contacts then scroll