Joey BadASS - Word Is Bond lyrics

rate me

Got the reggie from the Bush

Get lifted like a saint off the kush, man all my niggas push

So I always got the zip stock in the zip locks

They know, like Ralph flip stock, hit the Mary, won't kiss and tell

My lips locked but my grip's not so I pass it off

Real burners, and we ashing off your furniture

Fuck your couch, bitch, hush your mouth

She said she fell in one of them Ls, but less don't count

These chickens don't love me, they love the account

But they will never know what's the amount, I keep the hoes in check

Till they bounce, don't ever let a chick see you withdrawing

These niggas want to know what I draw with

But won't respond to what I've drawn

Tetrahedrons, take a dose of Patrone

Mix with all them juices, deuce 'Cuse and Metatron

They wouldn't hear the tone through a megaphone, let alone

Cellular phone, but my line stay hella blown

Hella blown, hella blown

Yo, Houston, we got a problem, copy

Four, five hotties in the lobby

So they can blow the rockets properly, but blowing spots never stop

Like them hockey’s, they never get aqui to my prothy

Known around my city like George Pataki

Young Jason for them dollars in the mix like teriyaki

And round four, I force my large Versace

Over my big head, ‘cause I don't live here, she getting too cocky

Won't spot me in no closet, I ain't like Kels and them

A closet full of arm limbs and a skeleton

I spray nines on foes, but if you pick five MCs

Ever ain't gone flow like me, nigga I'm two-six

I mean too sick, sent to Earth just to shit

Mami, come stay, it's some new stick, I demand, I don't give two shits

Better tell that doofus deuces before he catch you whipping

Hit him in his Charles Dickens and strip him for his Scottie Pippens

‘Cause it's all about the big pimping

Rob him for his Nixon, and then question him about his timing

Right here, it gets reckless, best advice is

To tuck your necklace and put your arms right back into your Lexus

‘Cause G-Stone Crips, they ain't nothing

To flex when it ain't really pyru, they really on some next shit

So if I were you I would probably ride with two

No fool, not two dudes, two tools

As in deuce-deuce ‘cause niggas jock you for your soul

And your new shoes and your jewels, too

There's something about another nigga having shit

That have a nigga spazzing clips all up in your back and dent

‘Cause it's all about bagging the baddest chick

Stacking them chicks up in Saks Fifth

But word is bond, you been on

Word is bond, you been on