or
The Last Poets

It is absolutely silly and unproductive to have a funeral for the word nigger
When the actions continue we need to have a movement to resurrect brothers and sisters
Not a funeral for niggers
'Cause niggers don't die

Ugh yeah yo I'm creepy and crawling
In your sink or your toilet
I'll be drinking from your spit
Anything cause I'm more less an insect with 4 legs
People come and I fake dead
Correction I got 8 legs
Climbin' on top your plate bed

Wherever I smell food
It could even jail food
Stale food that's molded
A roach is what I am fool
The ghetto is my land fool
I'm a never be able to fly like a bumblebee
Try not to be underneath
Your sneaker

Pitiful creature
I'm not afraid of your pesticide
Or ray
'Cause in heavens my creator
I love it when the lights off
Eating from same knives forks
From any mans dinner
See my antennas

You can't win
You can't stand the crunchy sound I make if you squash me
Learn to live with me
How much your roast motel costing
You and the city
But yo we everywhere
Check your house I bet we there, look [?]

Niggas are like roaches, they are never going away
Learn from them what we should not become
Of course niggers don't die

Written by JONES, NASIR / HUDSON, ERIC / OYEWOLE, ABIUDUA
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.