Remember the Name (feat. Styles of Beyond)

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 makin' some noise

Makin' the 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 starstruck

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, but to get some respect

He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach

And now it all unfolds, the skill of an artist

This is twenty percent skill, eighty percent beer

Be a hundred percent clear 'cause Ryu is ill

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

Then I heard him wreck it with The Crystal Method, Name of the Game

Came back dropped Megadef, took 'em 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

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 spittin' fire with 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 women want to be with and rappers hope he gets 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 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, makin' his way to the top

He often gets a comment on his name, people keep asking 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

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

Dedicated to what they doin' 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 mother fuckers he runs with, those kids that he signed

Ridiculous, without even tryin', 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!