Close Range

I'm somebody you might hate to love I see the jealousy from close range

For sure I kind of miss the old days

Pray I don't go back to my old ways

For sure I kind of miss the old days

Pray I don't-

I really wish I could go back to 2010

All my people was alive, and we was getting it in

Young and dumb, ain't thinking 'bout the consequence of sin

Relationship with some fakes, I thought would never end

Look

I really wish I had a time machine

Bare minimum, we happy fuck them finer things

Had wit was sitting on some tens, but we kept it clean

Short temper, say the wrong thing and we'll cause a scene

Yeah

I kept it player, why they turn on me

Them folks, melt under pressure, they can't take the heat

Heavy motion, eyes and ears when I choose to speak

Master my chi to keep it P, I burnt off the leash

Yeah

See I be tagging the toes and tipping the haters that's timid to test

They pull up with poles, a package of pressure, serving, I'm a pest

You play with your nose and just let me know, got babies to feed at the nest

Investing it now, and I went legit, and giving the kids the rest

You hear me

Imagine me the patchwork of perseverance

A result of my mother's cloth, I was sewn different

Double-stitched for the times when life finds itself pulling at my loose threads

I'm tailored for the long run

Cut and pieced together with water-resistant fabric

Never let them see you sweat or cry

No artificial dye, my skin black and leather strong

So when failure beats on me, it still sounds like a djembe in the hands of King Kong

The champ is here

I made diamonds out of my fears

And dripped out my pride like it was Ric Flair's robe ain't I amazing

Don't I look good for a man who was raised to stand on ten

Even if ten out of ten you'll always be

Misunderstood

Never celebrate your goods

They won't hang your jersey for trying

So I cut it up and made fashion out of being defiant

You can't clothe a giant in insecurities

It don't stretch as well as confidence does, baby, picture me

The lint roll, dirt and bloody clothes

Pressed, shined, and cleaned for one reason

No matter what, win, lose, or draw

At least I look damn good doing it

The fabric of my reality