[Intro: Project Pat]
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool

[Chorus: Project Pat and Crunchy Black]
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a—point me a—point me a—
Point me a—

[Verse 1: M.C. Mack]
A lotta' n***as talk that shit and end up gettin' they wigs split
It's M.C Mack, a n***a known for smackin', jackin' crackerjacks
Busta ass n***a, run yo mouth, and get yo 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 yo ass been had
Flodgin' weak ass n***as lookin', throwin' up the wrong sign
I'm staring at 'em like they J-Ko, bitch, you ain't no friend of mine
Shoot a stupid sucka 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 cluckas, stain a busta
Smackin', crack a n***as dome with the handle of my chrome
So now you wishin' you didn't run your liquor n***a lane we poppin'
Gon' 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' yawk
Classify this lemon peelers, let's make a stain, shoot that thang
Like Crunchy said, you stupid hoes
"EZ come and EZ go", bitch
[Chorus: Project Pat and Crunchy Black]
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
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 rudy poot lemon lame side, bust a 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 yawk and load that bitch and see what snitch gon' start some shit
Jump like you got anna, close yo' eyes watermelon-trick, make a wish
Got Teflon in yo lungs and now you gaspin' for yo' last breath
Young n***a tryin' to out run some hollow tips, well trick, you done took yo' last step
See, busta 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 feelin's
As I'm dishin' out those hollow thangs
Triple Six, Gimisum Family, Killa Klan
And snitches cannot manage
Scopin', poppin', droppin', busta trick
We rob you for yo weed
And blew the smoke off in yo face, now bitch
You shouldn't have shit to say
Run your pussy liquor n***a
Mack will always keep a tone
For a sucka, clucka, busta, mothafucka:
Chrome thang to yo dome
[Chorus: Project Pat and Crunchy Black]
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily, I shoot you hoe
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome, fool
Easy come, easy go, easily I shoot you hoe

[Outro: Project Pat]
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a tone, right dead at ya dome fool
Point me a—point me a—point me a—
Point me a—