Lyrics Remember the name [funkadelic remix] Fort Minor

Remember the name [funkadelic remix]

Come on! What up, Mike? Yeah, how's this for a fucking remix, right? You got it, Fort Minor Yeah, you ready? OkLadies and gentlemen
For those of you that want to know what we're really all aboutLet's do it like this come on! It's just 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 MikeHe 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 codeIt's not about the salaryIt's about reality and makin' some noiseMakin' the storyMakin' sure his clique stays up
That means when he puts it down Tak's pickin' it up 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 to him 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, to get some respectHe'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 fear
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
And I heard him wreckin' with The Crystal Method, Name Of The GameCame back dropped Megadef, took 'em to churchI'm like 'bleach, man, why you have the stupidest verse?'This dude is the truth, now everybody be 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
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 at MikeGot him out the dryer he's hot
Found him in Fort Minor with TakBeen a fuckin' annihilist porcupineHe'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 globeHe'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 TakHe's not your everyday on the block
He knows how to work with what he's gotMakin' his way to the top
People think its a common owners 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 boothHe'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 MikeNobody 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 mindIt'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 tryin', how do they do ità It's just 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 It's just 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 YeahFort Minor, M. ShinodaStyles of Beyond, Ryu, TakbirMachine Shop