Glass Ceiling

[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