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


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 makin' some noise
Makin' the story
Makin' 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 respect
He's only focused on what he wrote, his will is beyond reach
And now when it all unfolds, the skill of an artist.