Can-O-Corn - Coolio

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

Cos all I had for dinner was a can-o-corn

BRIDGE

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 MAAD group

Of gangstas and hoodlums, but you can call em 'scroops'

Give me liberty or give me death

Cos a man without pride ain’t got shit left, huh

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

Cos a man can’t live on a can-o-corn