EZ Come, EZ Go

Lyrics

[Chorus: Project Pat & Crunchy Black] Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a-point me a-point me a-point me a— [Verse 1: M.C. Mack] A lotta' niggas talk they shit and end up gettin' they wigs split It's M.C. Mack, a nigga known for smackin', jackin' crackerjacks Buster-ass nigga, run your mouth, and get your ass blowed off Watch me put my ski-mask on, cock my Gat back, trick, now drop it off Lames get buried quick, and tricks that try to test they nuts get stuffed and zipped up in a body bag To let you know your ass been had Flaugin' weak-ass niggas look and throwin' up the wrong sign I'm starin' at 'em like they Jako, bitch, you ain't no friend of mine Shoot a stupid sucker in a minute, don't you give a fuck about another nigga, if he's bigger you should cap his ass Nigga like the Mac'll smack a nigga like a nigga smack a bitch, you cluckers, stain a buster Smackin', crackin' niggas dome with the handle of my chrome So now you wishin' you didn't run your liquor, nigga, like we poppin' cone See, once again, I got to show these lemons who they dealin' with Don't play me weak or soft, 'cause all my niggas keep a fuckin' yalk Classified as lemon peelers, let's make a stang, shoot that thang Like Crunchy said, you stupid hoes Easy come and easy go, bitch [Chorus: Project Pat & Crunchy Black] Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a-point me a-point me a-point me a— [Verse 2: M.C. Mack] I'm hangin' in North Memphis with my niggas that be snortin' that P Got a MAC-10 on the side of my hip For a rooty-poot lemon lame side buster, runnin' lip Smoked out on that ganja weed, while sittin' back, sippin' on Hennessey I'm higher than three birds and a kite I'm thinkin', blinkin', also creepin' I grab my yalk and load that bitch, and see what snitch gon' start some shit Jump like you got anna', close your eyes watermelon-trick, make a wish Got Teflon in your lungs and now you gaspin' for your last breath Young nigga tryna out run some hollow tips Well trick, you done took your last step See, buster niggas run they mouth, but eventually get they cranium cracked by M.C. Mack We rob, and stain, and stick 'em up, ho, what you got? My nine don't have no feelings, as I'm dishin' out those hollow thangs Triple Six, Gimisum Family, Killa Klan and snitches can not manage Scopin', poppin', droppin', buster trick, we rob you for your weed And blew the smoke off in your face, now bitch, you shouldn't have shit to say Run your pussy liquor, nigga Mack will always keep a tone for a sucker, clucker, buster, motherfucker, chrome thang to your dome [Chorus: Project Pat & Crunchy Black] Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you, ho Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Point me a tone right dead at your dome, fool Point me a-point me a-point me a-point me a—