Luyện nghe bài hát City of light

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Verse 1 -
I'm from the of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the killer,
And in the summer it feels a hundred degrees,
Where I'm from you might see MC,
Walking the traps to escape the map,
Ninety one was my shit I'm to take it back,
To writers ran the line and transits ran the gambit,
My memories the paint, let the be my canvas,
Thirteen sitting in a park, sipping casks,
whole cars as they went flying past,
I paint so I rhymed to the writers,
They'd laugh, light up a smoke, and get by their lighters,
'Nasty Arts' ran my line cop cars,
And we looked up to like they were rock stars,
Paint stained hands and like Manson,
Charles not Marilyn, a city held to ransom,
Cans and markers, Country parkers,
Hands of an artist left the enchanted,
Until the pigs had all the paint washed,
From our walls, end of the renaissance,
And so the walls where the colours played,
Were by the buff, now a sullen blunt grey,
washed, shitty, all grey, all black,
Waiting for the kids of this city to their walls back.

2 - Pressure
I'm from the city of light, a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches of the serial killer,
And in the winter, the sleeps dead in the freeze,
Where I'm from you might see MC,
Walking the traps to escape the map,
three was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
Got kicked out of but I would have left in time,
nothing but an ego and rap to get me by,
I floors, packed orders, when poor racked from Porters,
store just to score me a four track recorder,
Fifteen, sneaking in the door to the gig,
I could rip, bro trust me I fought for this shit,
Cos the city's darker than a night,
And treats a starter like a fresh piece of meat, greet the knife,
Till the day came when I'd consortiums,
I'd lay waiting, stations and parks my audience,
we had our beats made, before we had a DJ,
We'd rock to a beat box, that shit was clichd,
You see mate, I to lay low and gave those,
years of my life to pave roads,
as hell, we did it by ourselves,
The only secret to this is one that time will tell,
So in cos the city invites, jealously, pity and blight,
in the city of light.