This ghetto is driving me so crazy I know niggas that been balling the zip since

the early 80s I'm trying to have a million, can't be held back

America's on the move and this ghetto got me trapped

Russian caterers don't play the haters that want to invade us

We rock in a game like the Raiders, shoot them down like space invaders, fool

Big block, got me cashed in, we're ready to be a sugar bear

Strap down with the MAC -10 and they stacked in

Big faces, off of briefcases, pushing the S -coup

From San Francisco back to Sacramento, we known to stretch the loose

My knife don't fall, straight laced thickheads

In this heat I hold, it's traced to the dead

This ghetto madness got me clenching my fists

Was I born to die in hell, eating holo chips?

Shielded while you blessed me with children

In all this cheap fame, shit took me young, dug down

In the deep end, ghetto madness

Hot killers, mob figures, hot snickers, rock spitters

Hot bitches, block chickens, mob bitches, nigga

I'll make sure you die slow, on the floor of your home

With two hoes and both your kneecaps, trying to crawl for the phone

The gang bizarre, so tell me, have you ever heard of

35 robberies and 70 unsolved murders?

The D's is furious, the federali's curious

Cause we pulling off the lot in the hottest, newest shit

You niggas talk about it, it's nothing to be doing it

Takes one bad apple and a bunched arm to ruin it

Tell them niggas they can't hang, they ain't the kind

Tell that bitch when the phone rang, you on family time

We tryna keep it rock solid, it's too real, I can't call it

Only ride with them niggas who gon' catch me when I fallin'

Cause I go pricey, steeper, but Cali, we got them cheaper

Send your goons to come see us, we'll make them all out of believers

And the baby slick talkers, they're late, they're crip -walking

Hit our weed, coffee, shit water for all your shit -talkers

It's for real, realer than real, a gangster with a deal

Let his shit out of my steel, you better ease back

Catch some of these or some of that, it's rather two guns

I'm hot, nigga, wanna buy my strap, get on madness

Cop killers, mob figures, hot snickers, rock spitters

Hot bitches, block chickens, mob bitches

Make you look like an accident, niggas prone for that

A hundred shots out the cater, end it all, we known for that

Smoke niggas and weed, rap hard, I got killers to feed

They can't real players, still I succeed

You can't breathe in my presence, I've been taking your air

Taking it there, we come around, niggas get scared

Niggas tuck they guns, niggas hide they hoes

We hit they spots, then divide they O's

Find a witness in the link in the chain, I answer the veins

Through your bloodstream, headed straight for your brain

Seeing your game, light as a feather, make you bite the beretta

You should've stayed in square, life would be better

You wanna cross my street and buy a piece of my beef

It's my word against yours and murder I speak

I'm a frisco rapper, there's hundreds in the point

You gon' feel the mo', and you can't hit my joint

Bust the cabbage, psycho, hoods to madness

Los Angeles, most savages, that Cali shit

Banana clippers, blue rags, do -rags

Chevys with the plaque in the back, we drive fast

A whole lot of gunplay, that turf shit

Gang bangin' on the one way, drinkin' on Sunday

All on Crenshaw, poppin' out a young bra

Fuck talkin' about money now, niggas know I ball

Ridiculously, you feelin' the heat

Yeah, bring me a motherfucker iller than me

My name Gonzo, nigga, with a E at the end

And I'm reppin' Los Angeles, so fuck where I been

Mo' money, mo' drugs, mo' head -bustin'

Mo' liquor, dope fiends, mo' game cousin

I'm a block monster, it just keep comin'

And my lil' niggas out there sick, they keep gunnin'

I'm feelin' life is choosy

You probably feelin' life is groovy

And never busted a stride

And your life just like the movie, dawg, it's not the movies

Niggas cockin' back on toolies

And wreckin' shotgun, you cowards are scared to get shootin'

I react stupid, ketchup and mucus

Furniture place, and ain't no sleepin' right

Until there's dirt on your face

That nigga both sent word from the pen

Quinn sent me a kite

Writer chatted back with front page site

I push the top back in broad day

Blood on the chain, wipe it off

Cause this shit still got glame

I'm just a town nigga, baked writer, Oakland elite

100 block soldier in the woods

And that's on T, it's ghetto madness