Fort Minor

Remember the Name (feat. Styles of Beyond)


The Rising Tied, 3m 50sec

Remember the Name (feat. Styles of Beyond)
  • Remember the Name (feat. Styles of Beyond)


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

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 about reality and making some noise
Making a story, making 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 despite the fact
That many misjudge him because he makes a livin' 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, 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 that he'd be the one to set the west in flames
Then 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 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


They call him Ryu he's sick, and he's spittin' fire and 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 get 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

He's not your every day 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 that he 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 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?


Published by Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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