City Of Light by Hilltop Hoods
Verse 1 – Suffa
I'm from the city of light, with a sky of vanilla,
Known as the city of churches home of the serial killer,
And in the summer it feels like a hundred degrees,
Where I'm from you might see Suffa MC,
Walking the traps trying to escape the map,
Ninety one was my shit I'm trying to take it back,
To when writers ran the line and transits ran the gambit,
My memories the paint, let the track be my canvas,
Thirteen sitting in a park, sipping wine casks,
Watching whole cars as they went flying past,
I couldn't paint so I rhymed to the writers,
They'd laugh, light up a smoke, and get blinded by their lighters,
‘Nasty Arts' ran my line evading cop cars,
And we looked up to them like they were rock stars,
Paint stained hands and fame like Manson,
That's Charles not Marilyn, a city held to ransom,
Cans and markers, Country Road parkers,
Hands of an artist left the landscape enchanted,
Until the government pigs had all the paint washed,
From our city walls, end of the renaissance,
And so the walls where the colours once played,
Were replaced by the buff, now a sullen blunt grey,
White washed, shitty, all grey, all black,
Waiting for the kids of this city to take their walls back.
Verse 2 - Pressure
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