A sock-clad Method Man padded into the hallway of his Staten Island home. On the stove in the kitchen, an inviting dish sat cooling. Floral arrangements filled the dining room table. The local news played unobtrusively in the background.
"Welcome to suburbia," said the hard-core rhymer, his proud tone tinged with just a hint of irony. He opened the front door to reveal a sleepy, snowy street, where so few cars passed that a neighbor had put a basketball hoop in the middle of the road.