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' n*ggas talk they sh*t and end up gettin' they wigs split
It's M.C. Mack, a n*gga known for smackin', jackin' crackerjacks
Buster-ass n*gga, run your mouth, and get your ass blowed off
Watch me put my ski-mask on, c*ck 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*ggas look and throwin' up the wrong sign
I'm starin' at 'em like they Jako, b*tch, you ain't no friend of mine
Shoot a stupid sucker in a minute, don't you give a f*ck about another n*gga, if he's bigger you should cap his ass
n*gga like the Mac'll smack a n*gga like a n*gga smack a b*tch, you cluckers, stain a buster
Smackin', crackin' n*ggas dome with the handle of my chrome
So now you wishin' you didn't run your liquor, n*gga, 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*ggas keep a f*ckin' yalk
Classified as lemon peelers, let's make a stang, shoot that thang
Like Crunchy said, you stupid hoes
Easy come and easy go, b*tch
[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*ggas 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 b*tch, and see what snitch gon' start some sh*t
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*gga tryna out run some hollow tips
Well trick, you done took your last step
See, buster n*ggas 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 b*tch, you shouldn't have sh*t to say
Run your pus*y liquor, n*gga
Mack will always keep a tone for a sucker, clucker, buster, motherf*cker, 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—