Remember The Name

You ready? Lets go! (yeah!)

Yeah, for those of you who 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!

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 them

He knows the code:

It's not about the salary

It`s all about reality and making some noise

Makin' a story Makin sure his clique stays up

That means when he puts it down,

Tak's pickin it up! (Let's go!)

Who the hell is he anyway?

He never really talks much

Never concerned with status but still leavin them star struck

Humbled through opportunities given despite the fact

That many misjudge him because he makes a livin from writin raps

Put it together himself, now the picture connects

Never askin for someone's help, and 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

This is twenty percent skill

Eighty percent beer

Be one hundred percent clear, 'cause Ryu is ill

Who would've thought that he'd be the one to set the west in flames

Then I heard him wreckin with The Crystal Method, "The Name Of The Game"

Came back dropped Megadef, took them to church

I like bleach man, Ryu had the stupidest verse

This dude is the truth, now everybody givin him guest spots

His stock's through the roof I heard he fuckin with S-Dot!

It's just ten percent luck,

Twenty percent skill,

Fiftteen percent concentrated power of will,

Five percent pleasure,

Fifty percent pain,

And a hundred percent reason to remember the name!

They call him Ryu he's sick

And he's spittin' fire and Mike

Got him out the dryer he's hot

Found him in Fort Minor with Tak

What a fuckin' nihilist 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 makin'

Patiently waitin to blow

Now the record with Shinoda's takin over the globe

He's got a partner in crime, his shit is equally dope

You wont believe the kind of shit that comes out of this kid's throat

He's not your everyday on the block

He knows how to work with what he's got

Makin his way to the top

He often gets a comment on his name

People keep askin him, was it given at birth,

Or does it stand for an acronym?

No. He's livin' proof,

Got him rockin the booth

He'll get you buzzin quicker than a shot of vodka with juice (juice)

Him and his crew are known around as one of the best

Dedicated to what they do n give a hundred percent!

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 the 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!

Machine Shop!