Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Artis Ivey, Brian Dobbs
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CoolioCan-O-Corn Lyrics:
Back in the days when I was a young buck
Stuck like a truck gettin' shit outta luck
Times was rough and I didn't have a plan
I was barely on the edge of my life as a man
It's really fucked up when there's dope in the crib
No food in the kitchen for the motherfuckin' kids
That's why a young nigga learned how to steal, see
Shopliftin' laid me a whole lotta meals
But I remember days when the cupboard was bare
And life was unfair but who the fuck cares?
I still hear momma, what she used to tell me
That you don't get shit in this life for free
And even if I never ever make it to the mountain top
Fuck it! I fight for my hip-hop
Not everybody can relate to what I been through
Even though some front and they try to pretend to
Know about the life of a kid and the strife
Where he has to live in the shadow of a base pipe
Good goes to bad, bad goes to worse
And pretty soon he's stealin' from his own momma's purse
So clean out ya ears and open up your eyes
I reach out to touch but somebody moved the sky
My stomach is growlin', word is born
'Cause all I had for dinner was a can-o-corn
A can-o-corn,a can-o-corn
All I had for dinner was a can-o-corn
A can-o-corn, a can-o-corn
Before I went to school, I had a can-o-corn
A can-o-corn, a can-o-corn
I tried to get full off a can-o-corn
A can-o-corn, a can-o-corn
That's all the fuck that we had in the kitchen
A few years later, I pledge a legions to the set
I'm growin' up but I ain't grown yet
It's funny how the strain in a life filled with pain
Can sometimes leave a bitch stained on the brain
I'm sittin' in the restaurant, guardin' my food like a eagle
Pickin' up scraps like a seagull
Waitin' on the people at the next table to leave a tip
So I can put it in my pocket
Phoney easter bunny, Santa Claus and the stork
We was poor as fuck so we ate a lot of pork
And it ain't no motherfuckin' way no how
When it come up, I let you bring me down
So I stick to the boots and I'm down with a mad group
Of gangstas and hoodlums, but you can call 'em 'Scroops'
Give me liberty or give me death
'Cause a man without pride ain't got shit left
And now that I'm older with kids of my own
I put me in the pot where it used to be a bone
Get'cha self together, word is born
'Cause a man can't live on a can-o-corn
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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