Remember The Name
Fort Minor
Are you ready?... let's go!... yeah...
For those of you who want to know what were all about... it's like this yall come on!
Its 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'em--he knows the code
Its not about the salary its all about reality
And making some noise
Making a story, making sure your clique stays up
That means when he puts it down
Tak is picking it up
Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much
Never concerned with status
But still leavin em starstruck
Humble through oppurtunities givin in spite of the fact
That maybe we missjudgement him.... because he makes a living from writing raps
Put it together himself
Got it picture perfect
Never askin for someones help, or to get some respect
His only focus is what he wrote
Even if its beyond reach
And now it'll unfold
To sit up and on seats...
This is twenty percent skill
Eighty percent fear
Be hundred percent clear
Cuz ryu is ill
Who woulda thought hed be the one to set the west in flames
And i heard him wreckin' with the crystal method, name of the game
Came back dropped megadef, took em to church
I like bleach man
Ryu had the stupidest first
This dude is the truth
Now everybodys givin him guest spots
The stock through the roof
I heard hes 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
Ryu!
They call him ryu the sick
And hes spitting fire and light
Got him out the dryer hes hot
Got him in fort minor with tak
Who the fuck, anile this porcipine
Hes a prick hes a god
The type women wanna be with but rappers hope he gets shot
8 years in the makin
Patiently waitin to blow
Now the record with shinoda's takin over the globe
Hes got a partner in crime
His shit is equally dope
You wont believe the shit that come outa of this kids throat
Tak!
Hes out there every day on the block
He knows how to work with what hes got makin his way to the top
He got vegas in common
People be gassin him
Askin him was it
You may not know, we're rockin the booth
He'll get you boys out quicker than a shot of vodka with juice
Him and his crew are thrown around, hes 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, seems like he’s never got time,
Because he writes every note,
And he writes every line,
And i’ve seen it at work when that light goes on in his mind,
It’s like a design its written in his head every time,
Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme,
Those mother fuckers he runs with the kids that he signs
Ridiculous, without even trying, how do they do it?...
{ 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} 2x
Fort minor, m. shinoda, styles of beyond... ryu, takbir, cheapshot!
compositores: MIKE SHINODA, MATTHEW RYAN MAGINN, TAKBIR KHALID BASHIR
Você é fã de Fort Minor? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
For those of you who want to know what were all about... it's like this yall come on!
Its 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'em--he knows the code
Its not about the salary its all about reality
And making some noise
Making a story, making sure your clique stays up
That means when he puts it down
Tak is picking it up
Who the hell is he anyway?
He never really talks much
Never concerned with status
But still leavin em starstruck
Humble through oppurtunities givin in spite of the fact
That maybe we missjudgement him.... because he makes a living from writing raps
Put it together himself
Got it picture perfect
Never askin for someones help, or to get some respect
His only focus is what he wrote
Even if its beyond reach
And now it'll unfold
To sit up and on seats...
This is twenty percent skill
Eighty percent fear
Be hundred percent clear
Cuz ryu is ill
Who woulda thought hed be the one to set the west in flames
And i heard him wreckin' with the crystal method, name of the game
Came back dropped megadef, took em to church
I like bleach man
Ryu had the stupidest first
This dude is the truth
Now everybodys givin him guest spots
The stock through the roof
I heard hes 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
Ryu!
They call him ryu the sick
And hes spitting fire and light
Got him out the dryer hes hot
Got him in fort minor with tak
Who the fuck, anile this porcipine
Hes a prick hes a god
The type women wanna be with but rappers hope he gets shot
8 years in the makin
Patiently waitin to blow
Now the record with shinoda's takin over the globe
Hes got a partner in crime
His shit is equally dope
You wont believe the shit that come outa of this kids throat
Tak!
Hes out there every day on the block
He knows how to work with what hes got makin his way to the top
He got vegas in common
People be gassin him
Askin him was it
You may not know, we're rockin the booth
He'll get you boys out quicker than a shot of vodka with juice
Him and his crew are thrown around, hes 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, seems like he’s never got time,
Because he writes every note,
And he writes every line,
And i’ve seen it at work when that light goes on in his mind,
It’s like a design its written in his head every time,
Before he even touches a key or speaks in a rhyme,
Those mother fuckers he runs with the kids that he signs
Ridiculous, without even trying, how do they do it?...
{ 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} 2x
Fort minor, m. shinoda, styles of beyond... ryu, takbir, cheapshot!
compositores: MIKE SHINODA, MATTHEW RYAN MAGINN, TAKBIR KHALID BASHIR
Você é fã de Fort Minor? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
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