Project Roach - Nas, The Last Poets: текст песни id 80414
It is absolutely silly, and unproductive
To have a funeral for the word «nigga»
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
Uh, yeah.
Yo, I’m creepy and crawlin', in your sink and your toilet
I be drinkin' from your spit, anything cause I’m all less
An insect with four legs; people come in, I fake dead
Correction: I got eight legs, climbin' on top yo' plate, bed
Wherever I smell food, it could be even jail food
Stale food that’s molded, a roach is what I am, fool
The ghetto is my land, fool, I’ma 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 RAID cause, in heaven’s my Creator
I love it when the light’s off, eatin' from same knives, forks
From, any man’s 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 roach motel costin' you in the city?
But yo, we everywhere, check your house good, I bet we there!
Look there!
Niggers are like roaches — they’re never gonna go away
Learn from them what we should not become
Cause niggers — DON’T DIE
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