The Bomb Lyrics - Amerikkka's Most Wanted - Ice Cube

It's like a holocaust to the boss when I toss 

Too much knowledge kicked then you're lost 

In a shuffle of feet, jinx the fiddler 

And I control your mind like hitler 

You bow and vow to authority 

See now, a sucker with a style just boring me 

So I show k.n.o.w. 

L.e.d.g.e. it might trouble you 

Then I transform like a decepticon 

With a mic as a bomb 

In my right palm 

But I don't stay calm 

So panic 

Others can't flow so they go schizophrenic 

You thought I dropped a dud in your face 

Until you taste the blood of the bass 

Then you faint, or better yet pass out 

When I'm on the mic, believe it's ass out 

You think you're raw so you draw 

You lose, you're hung, you bite your tongue 

The whole town saw in awe as you strangle 

A noose on your neck, and you dangle 

From side to side in the blazing heat 

You're beat, you're dead, the fools fell off 

You feel you're turning red, it's said 

That your head burst 

And this is only the first 

Of the bomb 

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(break) 

Don't break up the fight let them rumble 

Over the years I've watched some go super-bad quick 

Now the smell of the pen has got them sick to the stomach 

Now ask yourself, who's stupid? 

I take funky funky beats and I loop it 

And pimp slap you in the face with the bass 

And the boom from the bomb that I drop 

Stop 

You have a flat top as a fashion 

I love black women with a passion 

But when they gotta go and show their ass in 

I gotta clown the hoes, yeah 

You gotta watch the ones with the big derrieres 

They'll steer you wrong 

Ice cube's got it going on, hit me 

For the gangster boogie two times for the gangster rhyme 

The system ain't wholesome 

They want to put a young brother in folsom 

And others see me on lockdown 

But I come up foul then they get knocked out, word 

To the brother that rolls the herb 

Everybody getting knocked to the curb like that 

Jinx got the gat, and it's a fact 

He'll kick a funky beat to peel your cap 

Now who's the mack? 

Who's the hoe? 

Who's the trick? 

I got many, many styles won't you take a pick 

But don't be alarmed 

When I trip and stumble and fumble 

And drop the (rewind) 

Drop the bomb 

Photos 

(break) 

I'm solo, you ask how I'm living 

Still dropping more shit than a pigeon 

With the l, the e, the n, the c, the h, 

The m, the o, the b, the great 

Lyrics that make the beat swing and I gotcha 

It's the hip-hopper that don't like coppers 

And if you try to upset the pot son 

You get kicked in the chest like a shotgun 

I make the beats, I make the breaks 

I make the rhymes that make you shake 

Make you find 

Ice cube never caught in the middle 

I make shit to kick you in the ass a little 

And still never hesitate to stutter step 

Or bust a repitition on the mic 

Still dissing all the hype 

From left to right 

How many left to fight? 

So what that lench mob like?