Travis Thompson ft. Macklemore, Sir Mix-A-Lot, Prometheus Brown - Glass Ceiling Lyrics

Yeah
Live from occupied Duwamish territory
Where Geo, Saba laid the bricks for Trav to tell the story
Of a youngin' from the Baum
We grew up skatin' sippin' forties
With Bayani on the nano with 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
Well 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 (while they falling you) run out
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 clock done cut it's red tail
Its a wave if you don't 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, who was really there

The 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-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
It might have changed the as
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 I ain't eating at five point ever
Fuck an omelette
I watched Wordsayer, I studied Tribal (that's right)
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?
Bringing motherfucking team
Whole league getting rowdy
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 Kingdom
2030 something mayor when I get grown
Until then I ain't giving up this throne
'Cause 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 a in your cloaks?
Guess it don't really matter
I'm just rooting for my team
Cooking for my people 'til the day we finally see
Liberated cold ceilings territory, I'ma be
With the people who acknowledge me for me
Not the people 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

(Oh my God)
Who me be? M-i-x L-O-T, man
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 needs
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 'cause 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
This is a door cause
That fat motherfucker got balls, eat 'em

(Oh my God)