Can-o-corn Lyrics - It Takes A Thief - 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 

'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