Luyện nghe bài hát It's Hard to Be a Saint in The City

I had like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a
I could walk like brando right into the sun, an' dance just like a
With my black-jack and jacket and my hair slicked
Silver studs on my duds like a harley in heat
When I down the street I can hear its' heartbeat
The sisters fell back and said "don't that man pretty"
The cripple on the corner out "penny, nickels for your pity"
Them gasoline boys down-town, they talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the

I was the king of the alley, mama, I could talk some
I was the prince of the paupers, crowned at the beggars' bash
I was a pimps prophet, I kept everything cool
Just a back-street with the luck to lo..ose
And when the heat came down it was on the ground, mama
Devil appeared to me jesus through the steam in the street, an'
me a hand that even the cops couldn't beat
And I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove the heat, and it's so hard to be a saint when you're just a poor bo..oy out on the street

And the sages of the subway sit just like the living
As the tracks out the rhythm, the eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balancin', hold on by a thread
Well, too hot in these tunnels, you can get hit up by the heat
When you get up to get out at your next stop, but they push you right down in your
And your heart starts faster as you struggle to your feet
Then you're out of that hole!, back on the
And them sisters, they sure look pretty
And the cripple on the corner cries out "nickels for pity"
And them down-town boys, they talk gritty
so hard to be a saint in the c..c..city