Remember the Name — Fort Minor lyrics | караоке з текстом і вимкненням вокалу

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 him. But no, he knows the code, it's not about the salary. It's all about reality and making some noise. Make it 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 them starstruck. Humbled through opportunities given despite the fact. That many misjudge him 'cause he makes a living from writing raps. Put it together himself, now the picture connects. Never asking for someone's help or to get some respect . He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach. And now it all unfolds, his skill even not teets. This is twenty percent skill, eighty percent fear. 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 giving him guest spots. His stock's through the roof, I heard he's 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, he's sick and he's spitting fire. And 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 wanna be with and rappers hope he gets shit. Eight years in the making, patiently waiting to blow. Now the record we should notice taking over the globe. He's got a partner in crime, his shit is equally dope. You won't believe the kinda 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 that when I'm 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 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 the key or speaks in a rhyme. And those other fellas 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.