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Coolio( Artis Leon Ivey Jr. )
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Can-O-Corn
Lyricist:Dennis Belfield, Brian Dobbs, Artis Ivey, Kevin Murphy, David Wolinski
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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 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
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