Remember the Name (feat. Styles of Beyond)

You ready?

Let's go

Yeah

For those of you that wanna know what we're all about

It's like this, y'all, come on

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 'em

But fuck 'em, he knows the code, it's not about the salary

It's all about reality and making some noise

Making a story, making sure his clique stays up

That means when he puts it down, Tak's picking it up, let's go

Who the hell is he anyway?

He never really talks much

Never concerned with status, but still leaving 'em star struck

Humbled through opportunities given 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 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 woulda 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 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

What a fucking 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 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

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 living proof, got him rocking the booth

He'll get you buzzing 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 and 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