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Betrayed Video (MV)




Performed By: South Central Cartel
Featuring: Crips
Length: 3:57
Written by: GENE SIMMONS, TOMMY C. THAYER




South Central Cartel - Betrayed Lyrics




[ Featuring Crips ]

I feel betrayed.

Now I had this lil' homie that I thought was real
Had flows in his game and I'll never forget him
Used to be down for the hood thang
Quick to cook and breakin' cane
Straight runnin' thangs around the way
Havin' his money man
A rider from the hood understood by many sets
With the hood tatted on his back arm and neck
Givin a f*ck about a robbery steady dippin and ready for trippin
Let the good times roll when my nigga put that clip in
The type of homie you can depend on
When some shit got crazy or relict went dead wrong
Respected by G's, lil' locs and ghetto queens
Stripes from late night creepin' with infra-red beams
He seemed to be a soldier who thought he would switch
And start talkin like a lil' old punk bitch
When the Feds got on him
He ran his mouth like a two dollar hoe
Even brought that motherf*cker to my door
I feel

[Chorus]
Betrayed, can't trust nobody cause people nowadays act crazy
Betrayed, can't trust nobody cause people nowadays act shady

Now I had this fly bitch that was on my team
Big tits, brown ass fallin' out them jeans
Used to be down to suck a fat dick
Quick to turn a bitch trick
Brang the scrilla home to me
Kept my pockets fat
Should've stopped me on the block sellin' coochie for big leaf
With the cold dippin' the pocket while she on her knees
Givin a f*ck about a murder, give her a strap watch it now
Breakin' a nigga a bid
When it comes down to the snaps
That type of hoe you can rely on
When the chips get low
This hoe gon' get a grand O
Laced on the team I guess that's why she call me daddy
Never thought this funky bitch will run her twist and try to have it
For the ki's I got this hoe tried to set me up
And the folks out side waitin' to tie a nigga up
But I'm sure I do this funky hoe was up to something
So I grabbed the .9 and started dumpin'

[Chorus: x2]

Now I got this crazy uncle kept a badass hoe
Runnin games, havin' thangs, steady stackin' the dough
Used to be down for the hoo ride, quick to do a homicide
If you owed him chips you better pay him or you for sure to die
Soldier from that old school, ready for combat
With a left hook down to put a youngster on his back
Really not care where you come from, what set you claim
See it's all about that scrilla, when the .9 take game (that's right)
That type of uncle you respected
Hit a lick for the chips, bump a bitch and get naked
He used to lounge in my house when the things got crazy
Never thought he'd crossed the line and be f*ckin my lady
But it goes for sure then my uncle was a cold nigga
Played to find a weakness in my bitch and he went up in her
Hit the stash, get some cash and a quarter key
Want to kill his ass but I can't smoke my own family

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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I feel betrayed.

Now I had this lil' homie that I thought was real
Had flows in his game and I'll never forget him
Used to be down for the hood thang
Quick to cook and breakin' cane
Straight runnin' thangs around the way
Havin' his money man
A rider from the hood understood by many sets
With the hood tatted on his back arm and neck
Givin a f*ck about a robbery steady dippin and ready for trippin
Let the good times roll when my nigga put that clip in
The type of homie you can depend on
When some shit got crazy or relict went dead wrong
Respected by G's, lil' locs and ghetto queens
Stripes from late night creepin' with infra-red beams
He seemed to be a soldier who thought he would switch
And start talkin like a lil' old punk bitch
When the Feds got on him
He ran his mouth like a two dollar hoe
Even brought that motherf*cker to my door
I feel

[Chorus]
Betrayed, can't trust nobody cause people nowadays act crazy
Betrayed, can't trust nobody cause people nowadays act shady

Now I had this fly bitch that was on my team
Big tits, brown ass fallin' out them jeans
Used to be down to suck a fat dick
Quick to turn a bitch trick
Brang the scrilla home to me
Kept my pockets fat
Should've stopped me on the block sellin' coochie for big leaf
With the cold dippin' the pocket while she on her knees
Givin a f*ck about a murder, give her a strap watch it now
Breakin' a nigga a bid
When it comes down to the snaps
That type of hoe you can rely on
When the chips get low
This hoe gon' get a grand O
Laced on the team I guess that's why she call me daddy
Never thought this funky bitch will run her twist and try to have it
For the ki's I got this hoe tried to set me up
And the folks out side waitin' to tie a nigga up
But I'm sure I do this funky hoe was up to something
So I grabbed the .9 and started dumpin'

[Chorus: x2]

Now I got this crazy uncle kept a badass hoe
Runnin games, havin' thangs, steady stackin' the dough
Used to be down for the hoo ride, quick to do a homicide
If you owed him chips you better pay him or you for sure to die
Soldier from that old school, ready for combat
With a left hook down to put a youngster on his back
Really not care where you come from, what set you claim
See it's all about that scrilla, when the .9 take game (that's right)
That type of uncle you respected
Hit a lick for the chips, bump a bitch and get naked
He used to lounge in my house when the things got crazy
Never thought he'd crossed the line and be f*ckin my lady
But it goes for sure then my uncle was a cold nigga
Played to find a weakness in my bitch and he went up in her
Hit the stash, get some cash and a quarter key
Want to kill his ass but I can't smoke my own family

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: GENE SIMMONS, TOMMY C. THAYER
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group


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