Glass Ceiling

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Travis Thompson] Yah Live from occupied Duwamish territory Where Geo, Saba laid the bricks for Trav to tell the story Of a youngin from the Baum Who grew up skatin' sippin' forties With Bayani on the nano and a Microsoft recorder Yeah Swan dive down my mama up at Swedish Hit the hill the first day To find some whiskey and a free bitch That was back in '96 And the fourth that we defeated While he laid up on the court I was toasting to this season So an L never new to me Fell into the foolery Your favorite rapper in the back Like move let the students see I can tell it's all an act I can smell a movie scene How y'all be from legendary cities And still do the least Could it be us? I mean it wouldn't be dog If it's a ceiling, I'm shooting up at it all night long So stick your tongue out (Shots are falling now) I come now You run now Don't be styling my come up when I come out They gon' see Play your part or take a seat I know I'ma be a legend Why the fuck I'd wait to be Take the kids up out the town But you can't take it out the team Sign my deal in mamas crib In sweats and slippers Hit the weed It don't get realer than me The cloth I'm cut is rare as hell Its a wave if you don't know it You could drown or parasail This shit sweet like the revenge And all this hunger pairin' well Just a youngin' with some homies who were really there to tell [Verse 2: Macklemore] Taco Bell on Broadway used to hit different (hit different) Orange soda with the monarch we mix it (mix it) Fast forward true story yeah I lived it Take the torch and run when Mix gives it Ooh Now I remember when the scholars sold out the Chop Suey I hit the u-ey The line was wrapped around the block And if it wasn't for Geo and Saba Letting us open at the paramount for the scholars And Meinert's shady ass Paying us a couple hundred dollars I might not be in this house Looking right over the water And I don't know if I believe in karma But I got daughters and I ain't eating at five point ever Fuck an omelette I watched Wordsayer I studied Tribal I'm top five of all time with the live show I walk up on the hands of people like a tight rope And sold out Key Arena five times with my eyes closed Whose counting? Whose doubting? Whose mounting? Bring your motherfucking team Whole league getting routed With a sixteen that the city could be proud of Now the deal's been inked Meet a owner of the Sounders Ooh And I'm going to bring back the Kingdome 2030 something mayor when I get grown Until then I ain't giving up this throne Cuz the homie from Ambaum already got his own [Verse 3: Prometheus Brown & (Travis Thompson)] In the region still waiting to blow Even though We been seeing explosions for like ten years or mo' Now the outskirts thriving but the city lost it's soul And the OG's dying in the time we need them most We were beefing over coast Now we beefing over posts Is you writing, or you channeling a ghost? In your quotes, guess it don't really matter I'm just rooting for my team Cooking for my people til the day we finally see Liberated coast, Salish territory I'ma be With the people who acknowledge me for me Not the people who tryna network Or get some shit for free In my inbox, sayin' what's good we gotta link (Tap in with me one time) I miss this shit I don't miss the attention Still a blue scholar just in case you had to question Beat rock, til I get reverted to the essence Northwest til I get deported for my pigment [Verse 4: Sir Mix-A-Lot] Who be me? M-I-X-A-L-O-T Glass ceiling that's the drugs we dealin' Ain't no limits here baby Here it come Do you remember me? The black seed With hood knees The hood greed forced me to Chase feeds and get freed I concede my pop hits was paper makers Gotta get my mama out these projects Cuz I'm a shaker The nurse at the King County jail I was sucking in game She was bringing in mail The city is in me Y'all can't bend me I was full of good game Spite, doubt, and envy Here I sit, a few platinum hits Am I cool with this shit Nah hear this The emerald street boys for life If it wasn't for them I'd be humming a slave hymn, for him Blessed to be called by Mack and T-X-T The city's in good hands It's easy to sleep I'm good with the business And scissor door cars That fat motherfucker got bars, eat 'em