Remember the Name

Artist: Fort Minor
Title: Remember the Name

You ready? Let's go!
Yeah, for those of you that want to know
What we're all about
It's like this y'all, c'mon

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name

Mike, he doesn't need his name up in lights
He just wants to be heard, whether it's the beat or the mic
He feels so unlike everybody else, alone
In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him

But fuck 'em, he knows the code, it's not about the salary
It's all about reality and making some noise
Making the story, making sure his clique stays up
That means when he puts it down, Tak's picking it up

Who the hell is he anyway? He never really talks much
Never concerned with status, but still leaving them star struck
Humbled through opportunities given to him despite the fact
That many misjudge him because he makes a living from writing raps

Put it together himself, now the picture connects
Never asking for someone's help, but to get some respect
He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach
And now when it all unfolds, the skill of an artist

It's just twenty percent skill, eighty percent beer
Be a hundred percent clear cause Ryu is ill
Who would've thought that he'd be the one to set the west in flames?
And I heard him wrecking with The Crystal Method in Name Of The Game

Came back dropped Megadef, took them to church
I'm like bleach man, why you have the stupidest verse?
This dude is the truth, now everybody be giving him guest spots
His stock's through the roof I heard he fucking with S-Dot

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name

They call him Ryu the sick and he's spitting fire with Mike
Got him out the dryer, he's hot, found him in Fort Minor with Tak
Been a fucking annihilist porcupine, he's a prick, he's a cock
The type woman want to be with and rappers hope he get shot

Eight years in the making, patiently waiting to blow
Now the record with Shinoda's taking over the globe
He's got a partner in crime, his shit is equally dope
You won't believe the kind of shit that comes out of this kid's throat

Tak, he's not your everyday on the block
He knows how to work with what he's got, making his way to the top
People think it's a common owners name
People keep asking him was it given at birth or does it stand for an acronym?

No, he's living proof, got him rocking the booth
He'll get you buzzing quicker than a shot of vodka with juice
Him and his crew are known around as one of the best
Dedicated to what they're doing, give a 100%

Forget Mike, nobody really knows how or why he works so hard
It seems like he's never got time, because he writes every note
And he writes every line and I've seen him at work
When that light goes on in his mind

It's like a design is written in his head every time
Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme
And those motherfuckers he runs with, those kids that he signed?
Ridiculous, without even trying, how do they do it?

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain
And a hundred percent reason to remember the name

Yeah Fort Minor, M. Shinoda, Styles of Beyond
Ryu, Takbir, Cheap Shot