Ice Cube

Ice Cube - The Bomb lyrics

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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 verse
 Of the bomb


 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
 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


 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
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: Priority Records, Inc.


Released in: 1990

Language: English

Appearing on: AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted (1990)

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