Glass Ceiling - Travis Thompson, Macklemore, Sir Mix-A-Lot

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 lease

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

Ty my dealer

Mama’s 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 dont know it

You could drown or parasail

This shit sweet like the revenge

And all this hunger pairs well

With some homies who were really there to tell

Taco Bell on Broadway used to hit different (hit different)

Orange soda with the monarch we mix it (mix it)

Fast forward true story — 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 over the water

And I don’t know if I believe in karma

But I got daughters and 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 six team that the city can be proud of

Now the deal’s been inked

Me, the 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 thrown

Cuz the homie from Ambaum already got his own

And 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 post

Is you writing, or channeling or ghostin'?

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 you liberated

Cold ceilings, 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

Who me be?

M-I-X L-O-T

Glass ceiling that’s the drugs we doin'

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

Spiked out of 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 since the door closed

That fat motherfucker got balls, eat 'em