Method Man + Ghostface Freestyle

[Intro: Method Man & Ghostface Killah]

One-two, one-two

Got me open, kid, one-two, one-two

Two, one-two, yeah

Method Man, Ghostface Killah in the house (Word up)

Check me out, check me out, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, Method Man, yo

Method Man, yo, listen

[Verse 1: Method Man & Ghostface Killah]

What's 6-foot-4 coming at your jaw?

It's me kid, coming from the 1-6-0

I got crew kid, straight from the smoked out lungs of the mad one

Blow a crab to kingdom come 'cause it's real son

Represent what town you're from

And I kill rhymes quicker than a clock kill time

Word life, god, fuck making fancy moves

I need props, forget about a Hill Street Blue

This is my block, nigga wanna test my stee

I make shit hot, burn to a third degree

And it don't stop, keep on to the break of dawn

And I rip cords in half with the Wu-Tang style

What up? Ha, you're blind 'cause you don't know math

You's a bitch-ass nigga from a lightweight class

Caution, you're pissing me off and its forcin'

Me to have thoughts of extortion (Yeah, yo)

[Verse 2: Ghostface Killah & Method Man]

I'ma be here forever, max like the weather

Thoughts designed and classified like genuine leather

As I get down to the Brownsville

You remain still as I shoot the gift at will

With rough raps banging off of marvelous tracks

Paragraphs slamming like a late night snack

The rap therapist, you could get with this rhyme specialist

Yes, I be possessed, leaving threats like a terrorist

Blood spiller, ex-convict, verbal assaulter

Disguising as a psychiatrist whose name's Walter

Now I like smuggling mics of all types

Spotlights at the airport and catch a flight

To another chamber, then I will strike like a stranger

Bad guys shorten they lives and lose fingers (Hey, hey)

[Verse 3: Method Man]

I swing funky rap routines and tap the jaws

Spot you 20 points, bet you still can't score

Nothing, 'cause you ain't got no points in this game

Bitch, you frontin', I'm home run hittin', you be buntin'

Fresh out the toilet, I got my shit together

When I'm good, I'm good, when bad, I'm better

You want it? Whatever, I'll be the stormy weather

Rain coming down so weatherproof your leather

Jacket, a nigga with an axe couldn't hack it

I spark him like a match, ch-chew, of a MAC

It's the Method, say it loud, that the Method

Man, clap your hands, now check it

See me in the mix rolling fat blunts and spliffs

For my physical, brother came through and got me lit

Niggas that I walk by, give me the eye

The moment is fuckin' me up, killin' me high

Nigga, get back, you're pussy cat, fearsome

Basically that, I'm all of that and them some

While I was out on tour going berserk

I heard you was at the sandbox and kicking dirt

All on my name, but you can't pull my files

You don't know me and you don't know my style

'Member that hair like that there? Yeah

Even Grizzly Adams couldn't bare

[Verse 4: Ghostface Killah]

Yo, I'ma set it with one shot, forget me not

Ghostface blows the spot, popping niggas like Ronnie Lott

But of course, Wu-Tang Clan made The Source in no time

Niggas got flipped and tossed off the single

Hittin' like a bell when I jingle

A fat rap dose of the Ghost is what I bring you

At last, the Wu-Tang Clan got me gassed

Labeled as a outcast, the beat got smashed

Back up, thoughts is mad buck with real acts

Like shorty hooded up in a church with two MACs

Thoughts react so fast, I'm so sick

So quick to jig a nigga up with an ice pick

I'm stranded, facing your peeps, I be the one

Picture Ghostface and the son, be on the run

Reject that, brothers wouldn't never expect that

Running up on the god Ghost, what's the catch?

My technique, the words I speak shoot your freak

I get deep like killing George Bush in his sleep

Untold, no one seen shit, no one heard jack

I'm overseas counting G's relaxed and laid back

[Verse 5: Method Man]

Are you ready to face the consequences and suffer?

I'll even take ya mama, you ain't shit, motherfucker

Bring it, and let that killer bee kid sting it

And represent, it's like heads up, a brick

When I swing it, get lost, I'll break you off something

I'm pumping, like a Reebok, with my pump

From the jump and you was nothing

Bet you thought your freaking clan had ya back but they was fronting

Smoking dirt blunts and fucking nasty sluts and

You just a naked gun without the bullet, what you busting?

Get your ship sunken, messing with this drunken

Master disaster at any rap function, listen

Who said the Wu-Tang Clan, was it you or your man?

You wanna point the finger, I'll bring ya

36 chambers, be out, you's in danger

Let me pull your brain out your ass with a hanger

Didn't mama tell ya not to talk to a stranger?

Now ya got ya neck in the noose of the strangler

Just recline, keep the Meth in mind

I'll even test a knuckle check on the hands of time

[Verse 6: Ghostface KIllah]

Nonchalantly, I roll up on the rap scene bluntly

And lamp like I'm knocking off keys collecting monthly

My nickel plated pattern of stacks rips The Gavin

I build like I'm a stacking a log to make a cabin

Runnin' wild in Midtown, hit the ground quick

Mad bodies being lost and found

No one can stop me 'cause that's a sin, you know era

One thing, I bring the MC's, it be terror

Kick dirt on jerks and shit, I be the expert

Catch a hole in your shirt, John, I do work

Ghostface maxing in the hall of fame place

Suicidal blends that kick like no place

Surviving, crazy live when I flips a track

I hit a reverend in the head with a bat

And threw his head in a showcase

In a glass box with no case

Who did it? Ghostface

[Verse 7: Method Man]

Ha, it be the Method Man coming again

Goddamn at your command, listen

Ring your gong, it's right not now, but right fuckin' now

Recognize who the man, Meth Tical

Coming from the slums of the Shaolin Isle, I be smoking

Like a 24-hour store, I stays open

Daylight, and I'm about to catch this flight to the far side

Some stay my style is trife as Apartheid

Knocking on the next man's door

With the .44 automatic cocked for sure

You get yours, first you gotta get mine, son

Read your horoscope saying that it can't be done

Hey, I get down with the Angel of Death

I be's a pirate lampin' on the Dead Man's chest

What? What? Huh, niggas wanna get stressed

I stick that ass for your Meth, Ghostface

[Verse 8: Ghostface Killah]

Yeah, check it, fresh joint from out the stash, yo, yo

First of all son, peep the arson

Many brothers I be sparking and busting mad light inside the dark

And call me dough snatcher, just the brother for the rapture

I hang glide, holding on strong, hard to capture

Extravagant, RZA bake the track and it's militant

Then I react like a convict and start killing shit

It's manifested, the Gods work like appliances

Dealing in my cypher, I revolve around sciences

9th chamber, you get trapped inside my hallway

You try to flee, but you got smoked by the doorway

No question, I send your ass back, right to the essence

Your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you resting?

While I'll be trapped by sounds, locked behind loops

Throwing niggas off airplanes 'cause cash rules

Everything around me, Black, as you can see

Swallow this number one verse like God's Degree

Then analyze my soundtrack for satisfaction

And you adapt like a flashback chain reaction

[Outro]

Yeah, nobody, done (Word up)

Nothin' come after that (Boom, boom, boom)

Ghostface blew up the spot (I'm outta here)