Ice Cube - The Bomb Lyrics
Its like a holocaust to the boss when I tossToo much knowledge kicked then youre lostIn a shuffle of feet, jinx the fiddlerAnd I control your mind like hitlerYou bow and vow to authoritySee now, a sucker with a style just boring meSo I show k.n.o.w.L.e.d.g.e. it might trouble youThen I transform like a decepticonWith a mic as a bombIn my right palmBut I dont stay calmSo panicOthers cant flow so they go schizophrenicYou thought I dropped a dud in your faceUntil you taste the blood of the bassThen you faint, or better yet pass outWhen Im on the mic, believe its ass outYou think youre raw so you drawYou lose, youre hung, you bite your tongueThe whole town saw in awe as you strangleA noose on your neck, and you dangleFrom side to side in the blazing heatYoure beat, youre dead, the fools fell offYou feel youre turning red, its saidThat your head burstAnd this is only the first verseOf the bomb(break)Dont break up the fight let them rumbleOver the years Ive watched some go super-bad quickNow the smell of the pen has got them sick to the stomachNow ask yourself, whos stupid?I take funky funky beats and I loop itAnd pimp slap you in the face with the bassAnd the boom from the bomb that I dropStopYou have a flat top as a fashionI love black women with a passionBut when they gotta go and show their ass inI gotta clown the hoes, yeahYou gotta watch the ones with the big derrieresTheyll steer you wrongIce cubes got it going on, hit meFor the gangster boogie two times for the gangster rhymeThe system aint wholesomeThey want to put a young brother in folsomAnd others see me on lockdownBut I come up foul then they get knocked out, wordTo the brother that rolls the herbEverybody getting knocked to the curb like thatJinx got the gat, and its a factHell kick a funky beat to peel your capNow whos the mack?Whos the hoe?Whos the trick?I got many, many styles wont you take a pickBut dont be alarmedWhen I trip and stumble and fumbleAnd drop the (rewind)Drop the bomb(break)Im solo, you ask how Im livingStill dropping more shit than a pigeonWith the l, the e, the n, the c, the h,The m, the o, the b, the greatLyrics that make the beat swing and I gotchaIts the hip-hopper that dont like coppersAnd if you try to upset the pot sonYou get kicked in the chest like a shotgunI make the beats, I make the breaksI make the rhymes that make you shakeMake you findIce cube never caught in the middleI make shit to kick you in the ass a littleAnd still never hesitate to stutter stepOr bust a repitition on the micStill dissing all the hypeFrom left to rightHow many left to fight?So what that lench mob like?
