Fort Minor

You can call me if you find you have somethin' to say,
And I'm tellin' you,
I want you to know it's a little fucked up,
That I'm stuck here waitin'

This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill,
Fifteen percent concentrated power of will,
Five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain.

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.