[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' n***as talk they shit and end up gettin' they wigs split
It's M.C. Mack, a n***a known for smackin', jackin' crackerjacks
Buster-ass n***a, 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 n***as 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 n***a, if he's bigger you should cap his ass
N***a like the Mac'll smack a n***a like a n***a smack a bitch, you cluckers, stain a buster
Smackin', crackin' n***as dome with the handle of my chrome
So now you wishin' you didn't run your liquor, n***a, 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 n***as 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 n***as 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 n***a tryna out run some hollow tips
Well trick, you done took your last step
See, buster n***as 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, n***a
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—