lirik lagu bok bok (clean) – sop (smoked out productions)
sop (smoked out productions) * “bok bok”
[emcee(s): stress, black attack, problemz, and agony (aka fp)]
[producer(s): sop (smoked out productions)]
[vocals: big tone]
[sample (drums): lee dorsey * “get out of my life, woman” (0:01)]
[bridge 1: stress and (sop)]
ayyo
where all my n*ggas at? (right here, we got your back). yo, where
all my n*ggas at? (right here, we got your back). yo, where
all my n*ggas at? (right here, we got your back)
(stress sets sh*t off—it’s only right)
[verse 1: stress]
yo, where
all my n*ggas at? in the range of my voice, a little
something*something to help you make your choice, so with
just a glance, i got the crowd in a trance
and all you herbs’ll get no second chance
best believe it’s on with the quills
smoked out production, this is how we get ill. i got
the stutters. yo, help me, my brothers
it’s the stress that got me dropping b*tters
i know it’s too late to save me
i used to beef, now i’m flav’ like gravy
about to spread an epidemic so contagious
all i hear are the sounds of tony dangerous
[hook: sop (smoked out productions)]
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck!
smoke the lethals and we don’t give a what?!?
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck! ayyo, black
spark up the mic ‘cause you don’t give a…
[verse 2: black attack]
as i
sit back and puff an l, my body relaxes, brain begins, pens
hit the pad. you mad ‘cause i’m all about the ends, but that’s
just the beginning (why, black?) ‘cause i ain’t even get started to get
your old folks bouncing like they was mentally r*t*rded. check
my style—it’s illy ill on the reals
it ain’t hard to tell ‘cause your girl is all on my dills, but i won’t
take it that route (why?) ‘cause i’m about to get on some next sh… (when you)
(get mad and load your tec clips?) that just motivates me to wreck sh…
(lyrically), word bond, i break sh… down
i mixed my verbs with adjectives and i came out with a noun
now who said i can’t rhyme? just chill, spark your dime
‘cause you’re gambling your life away just like father time, n*gga
[hook: sop (smoked out productions)]
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck!
smoke the lethals and we don’t give a what?!?
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck! ayyo, probz
spark up the mic ‘cause you don’t give a…
[verse 3: problemz]
ayyo
when probz step up in the ring—peace—i see nothing but white towels
i’m 20*and*0 with nothing but tkos when i spark white owls
styles be flipping on foes like tokens
when i be choking the cannabis to get me open
explosive delivery combined with my complexity
makes it virtually impossible for emcees to step to me
so play the rear when i appear. some foolish n*ggas
choose to stop and stare, but the rest is filled with fear, and that’s that
bullsh… they’re faking jacks like they’re hard*rocks
but hard*rocks get nothing but hard times when the probz rocks
on your mentals over the rugged instrumentals. it’s
essential (that what?) that the god stay razor*sharp like a ginsu
spectacular (delivery) enables me to be the baddest (baddest)
and ruggedest (ruggedest) lyrical apparatus (what?!?)
[hook: sop (smoked out productions)]
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck!
smoke the lethals and we don’t give a what?!?
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck! yo, fp
spark up the mic ‘cause you don’t give a…
[verse 4: agony (aka fp)]
i move
fast for the cash. watch me get on your ass and confiscate
your choke if you’re smoking trash. detect
inspect while i throw the tecs
styles, concepts are so complex. i’m the
fp [?] that you heard about, make
sh*t jump off so i can who goes out. let me
see who’s real and let me see who’s fake while i
puff the lye and i meditate. deep
concentration and mental drills ‘til i’m
uptown in the reals, you’re downtown in the ‘ville
with all those freaks. think your sh*t is sweet? word life
you’re mine, yo, next time we meet (it’s like that)
[hook: sop (smoked out productions)]
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck!
smoke the lethals and we don’t give a what?!?
bok, bok! n*gga, duck, duck! yo, big tone
do your thing ‘cause you don’t give a…
[bridge 2: big tone]
smoke, just
sit back and relax while i
drop these smoked out tracks (word up)
sop is back (yo, what you doing, son?)
sparking up that sack
i’m not afraid to take
(what’s that, kid?) your lye (we’re gonna get high)
chocolate’s the flavor
blood in me eye
[outro: stress]
won’t you just
sit back? can you relax now while i drop
the flavor, smoked out tracks. now sop is back
spark the fat sacks, now i’m not
afraid, no. yes, i taste the lye. chocolate’s
the flavor, blood in my eye, crooked [?]
now i’m crazy high
yeah, and then the stress got me high
who brought the hydro?
(chocolate) puff chocolate, multiply
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