Correction Lyrics WNYU 89.1FM Freestyle ’94 by Method Man

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Lyrics

Method Man - “WNYU 89.1FM Freestyle ‘94”

[?]: Yeah, that's Charlemagne, who was in the house earlier.  Mad beats for days.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, just get loose, do your thing.  Let me know when you, when you done.  Let’s go
Method Man: Ooh, that's kind of banging right there.  Yo, yo

My lifestyle's hectic—so what?  I need the duckets
I know that I’ma die someday, but I'm like, “f**k it”
My moms know the way that I live, and she's disgusted
Just bought a pack of Newports and now I'm busted
sh*t's going down, and I'm not one to miss it
Jelly upstairs to the lab and get the biscuit
Brothers making G's on the block, so let's risk it
Waiting ‘til they go in the spot and try and stick it
First kid I caught on his way to get the med sh*t
Had the loot tucked in his sock like I expected
Caught him for the loot, the drugs, plus the med sh*t
Told the kid, “Run or I’ll shoot.”  He got the message
Counted up about five bill’, now I'm staffing
Up the blocks with the crackspot, me and my weapon
Came through the back with the gat that’s off safety
Plan: get the money and run, and make it hasty
But son wanna pull out a gun and try and waste me
Let off two rounds, I jet, he starts to chase me
Duck behind a bush and vanish—poof, magic!
He ran by the bush, I jumped out and I blasted
Let three shots in his back, now he's a tragic
Case of what happen to those that got a habit
So when you see me coming on through, a plot get thick
Don't try to say that I'm on some sh*t.  I’m on some militant
What you wanna do?  What you wanna screw?
Who you wanna bang?  Yeah
I'm here for you, son, I got your back as long as
You keep it real.  Word, I got your back.  Brothers want
The drama but don't know how to act until the chrome
Pointed at his dome, head cracked.  Come on, let's keep
It real, no disguise.  Recognize I'm from a small town
Called n***a Do or n***a Die—that's why
I'm stressing that brothers keep their thoughts on their lesson
Resurrect your mind from the essence for real
Ill block n***as get rocked, like, by the dozen
What up, cousin?  I give a pound to my lounge n***a
Feast, my ninja.  Killa Hill, 10304
But the GZA got me wide, it's going dizza
Make my way for the Ooh building.  Now I'm
Chilling with my neighborhood villains, thug life.  It be
On now, hit the gun pow' as I murk another cow
Mr. Method show you how n***as do it
I studied, lived the life of good, bad, and ugly
Hard time caught a n***a lovely, but that ain't nothing
Before I die, I'ma leave the world with something
To remember me by, the real would be I for
You fronting, ass-out rappers to capture
I'll rip your world apart like a natural disaster
I keep it live, something more than ‘85
I utilize my third eye, got me thinking
Maybe you and I should get together for whatever
You'll never be alone, make it lifetime or better
And you got it now, we be lounging, Tical
Word, son, I like your style.  Ooh

Method Man: Yeah, and you don't stop that rock, that rock.  Ooh, yeah, and you don't stop that rock, that rock
[?]: No doubt, no doubt.  Charlemagne with the beats

Hah, yep, and it comes back
To attack like the crack
With that monkey off your back, what you wanna do?
f**k the crew, the F-U Man
Like my man Eddie, come back
Your raps is confetti, I tear ‘em to shreds, so be
Dread (*Burp*)
Burping on the track like that, come back to rap
Known to catch wreck on the set be the Method Man
For sure, Mr. Meth

Method Man: Haha, yeah, what?  Whoo!  I like this joint.  Who you said made this here?
[?]: Charlemagne

Charlemagne, he's the n***a of the year.  I like his style
Oh my God, he gets buckwild.  This f**king
Beat is golden.  You said no curses
But I came back with the verses—aah!—like
Satanic.  Haha, get dramatic
‘Cause brothers got to catch a Craftmatic addict
Type of bed.  You ought to lay down and rest your head
And catch what I said when I bring
It back to the bozack
Grab my joint like that ‘cause it's all good in the hood
Back, back, back, back to my man Biggie
Smalls—he's the illest.  Take it
To my man Willis and Arnold, backbone
Of Diff'rent Strokes.  We was old folks.  Spread
Sin through my kin.  Ha

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