Medicine

[Intro: Crooked I] {Twitter Shout-outs} [Verse 1: Crooked I] Only thing I got is the hottest flow and some bubble gum Just ran out of bubble gum, man I'm number one Everybody wanna be hood, they so fucking dumb Tell me why they running to everything I'm running from What the fuck you live in a bubble boy, its troublesome See them white sheets on the street, you could be under one Coroner calling your mother, down goes another son And the world keeps spinning, just like it's nothing huh Ever had them gunshots hit ya, man it don't feel good Ever had that switchblade stick ya, man it don't feel good I got a little bit richer, but see I'm still hood And I'm giving back to the kids, just like the trill should Quit trying to be somebody else, I know for a fact Niggas need to learn to love themselves a little more than that If music is an influence, then where's Lauryn at The young fans can win, if she the quarterback Crooked you done shot at dudes, you a hypocrite My nigga they shot at me first, that's why I did the shit That was long ago, I'm on a different tip To no longer look over my shoulder, it's magnificent My homie said I'm going soft, looking at me slanted I'm looking at him like he think I'm on his planet I'm in another world, homie you don't understand it God granted my wish, can't take my wish for granted All I wanted to do, was give my music to my people Instead of taking pounds out of town, living illegal But I'll do it again if I had to, I can't lie My mother's the wrong one to make cry When her bills overdue, shit, I'm her main guy But I'm like a nerd hollering at bad bitches man, I aim high So I expect more out of myself Than anybody else, than anybody else That's why the hottest metaphors pour outta myself More than anybody else, more than anybody else Shouts out to Uncle Russ man, cuz he embodied wealth Mind bodied health, that's why I'm probably stealth Hip-hop moguls, they were my inspiration When I was homeless and sleeping at the bus station Hungry as a hostage, imagine my frustration I earned this here right to speak to my young nation The youth better wise-up and rise-up Everything must evolve, even a gangster, Eastsider Heather grey leather in the Benz when we ride up Drinking like my niggas in the D and we fried up Record labels didn't expect me to go the distance To last this long independent with no assistance They said he'd either run out of gas or blow his pistons And I ain't even mad, I'm a symbol of coexistence We could still do business baby, cut the check though And everybody who supported, I got much respect fo' Man ain't a damn thing changed, just the dress code I don't take L's, only W's, I'm from the West Coast Now go and tell your favorite artist, I'm back And if he tries real hard, he can almost be whack All I got is the hottest flow and some bubble gum Just ran out of bubble gum, man I'm number one