Lyrical Breakdown of Word Is Bond - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Word Is Bond" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Joey Bada$$ weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Word Is Bond" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
- Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Joey Bada$$ employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
- Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Joey Bada$$'s narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Word Is Bond" not only celebrates Joey Bada$$'s artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!
Got the reggies from the Bush
Get lifted like a saint off the kush, man all my niggas push
So I always got the zipstock in the Ziplock
Stay lo, like Ralph lip 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 lust 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
'Til they bounce, don't ever let a chick see you withdrawn
These niggas want to know what I draw with
But won't respond to what I've drawn
Tetrahedrons, take a dose of Patron
With knowledge juice and deuce Cubes of Metatron
They wouldn't hear the tone through a megaphone, let alone
Cella phone, but my line stay hella blown
Hella blown, hella blown
Yo Houston, we got a problem, copy
Four, five hotties in the lobby
Said that they can blow the rockets properly, but blow up spots and never stop
Like them aki's, they never get aqui to my property
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
Her closet full of arm limbs and a skeleton
I spray nines on foes, bet if you pick five emcees
Seven, ain't gone flow like me, nigga I'm two-six
I mean too sick, sent to Earth just to shit
Mami, come steer, some new stick, got a man?, I don't give two shits
Better tell that doofus deuces before he catch a 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 with, and billy gang 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 jack 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 dip
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