Dig them graveeees
Dig them graveeees

The Westwood killas born n raised
The Westwood killas born n raised
The Westwood killas
The Westwood killas
What's goin' on

I'm grabbing my weapon for bustas who wants to trip
Extended clip UZI that's constantly shootin' so hard
I damn near lost my grip
So try not to slip

I shoot with the quickness because I'm paranoid
And bustas don't wanna play with me
Because I'm a dangerous boy, with dangerous toys
Like automatic weapons and hand grenades
I pull out the pin
And throw in the wind
Explosives to your face
A murder case
But I don't have no conscious
My thoughts are nonchalant

After I leave the murder scene
I piss on the punk
And smoke on the blunt
My hood is filled with killers, macks, and thugs
And that's the reason late at night
Brains must be dumped
Brains must be dumped! (Westwood killas born n raised)
Brains must be dumped! (Westwood killas born n raised)
Brains must be dumped! (Westwood killas born n raised)

I worship then I sip
Walking through the Valley of the Death
On the enter Heaven or Hell
So I'm scared to take a grim
As I burn through my Coin
Yeah my temper ? is ice cold
And see different troubles
Harding me
So I took the souls