Dante & Max Miller

You ready? Let's go!

Yeah!

For those of you that wanna 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 (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 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 pickin' 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 '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, 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 he'd be the one to set the west in flames

And 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 givin' him guest spots

His stock's through the roof, I heard he 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



They call him Ryu the Sick, and he's spittin' 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 wanna 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

Him and his crew are known around as one of the best

Dedicated to what they do, they 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, those 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!

The section 0:10 - 0:21 has been removed

Intro Edit

The song starts at 1 seconds.