Songtext Word is bond Joey Badass

Word is bond

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