Method Man — Tim Westwood Yonkers Freestyle

[Verse 1: Method Man] Uh oh you shoulda give me this beat.. I woulda... What?! Hold on, lemme see if I got something for this... no no no no lemme see. Lemme see Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh uh oh. Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh uh oh Crime scenes, coppers and sirens, helicopters and high beams The tensions is rising, fiends keeping their pipe clean This is what life mean? A dollar and a dream everybody wants nice things The kid was only nineteen, holding his chest now he's fighting For his last breath, he's seeing death it's frightening The grip on the ghetto is tightening, you try to do the right thing they do you just like King Now I can hear the night scream, sirens and light beams Firing off bad shots, hittin' people they ain't mean to pop The neighborhood's in shock, block extremely hot 'Nother black teen shot that's a dull routine to cops They shoulda got good grades, worked a minimum wage Now he layin' on that stretcher with nothing in him to save Keep it ghetto and whatever ghetto you at Just don't love the ghetto, cuase the ghetto don't love you back [Verse 2: Masta Killa] Tryna' be around this music it's therapeutic, first thoughts of the day it's so clear When I walk in my head there's a voice that talks, in my ear I can hear it so clear [Method Man] You think i'm buggin right? [Verse 3: U-god] Listen, oh shit.... Yo The average man wouldn't last that long She like to work out, run marathons She wear tight skirts with no panties on She's a six foot one bronze Amazon Singin', complaining all the good men is gone I'm from Babylon, she reads the Qur'an Visits all the jails and the nail salons She rock Coco Chanel, her smell was strong With skin like velvet she rocked my bed She gave me long head, sipping Long Island Red She spread eagle at the tip of the bed She rubbed on her legs this is what I said Rap music's therapeutic to me, rap music's therapeutic to me! [Verse 4: Method Man] Hey yo You ain't lived till you made your first million And top models wanna swallow your children I thought I told you Wu Tang is for the children Way before rap movin' crack in your buildings Yeah, now what’s the price of rice in China? These women tryin' to raise the price on they vagina Me? I’m trying to live the life and get the grind up Like Diddy, but I ain’t trying to give the Shyne up Pop pop, pop-off no question, see Ol' Dirty, like it raw no protection When the kid hold court, no objections Meth needs his money at the door, no exceptions I go hard in the paint on a rapper I go harder on a pussy no Viagra You think I’m tripping, ain’t into tricking But keep a snow bunny in the kitchen I’m the master like Killa