The Bomb

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 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 sun 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 repetition on the mic Still dissing all the hype from left to right How many left to fight? So what that Lench Mob like?