"ITM" Forget name if you know it Because for this moment my AKA takes the stage with his prophetic proses posing like a Moses upholding One of hip-hop’s most cherished traditions Alongside diss tracks, a disk scratch And head spins baptized by sunbeams from The Unseen in Clark Kent fashion I pull a Dah-dah-na-nuh and become ITM But save your laughs for a rainier day this is more than just a Pilipino game of witty wordplay or a “punny” way to point out my skin’s shade It’s time we reclaim this name from the chains of our internalized racism raised by Everybody’s favorite bad step dad father colonialism himself So tell all Your tito’s, tita’s, lolo’s, lola’s, mama’s, papa’s, ninongs, ninangs, manongs, manangs, hella pinsans and that white uncle in law What I will say today ITM is “no” No, papaya soap, you will not bleach the bronze on my bones just because my classmates laughed my balat TFC you are no different, because no matter how much you refuse to televise our people’s actual depiction by gorging yourself with those K-Drama wannabe's I will never ask my mirror to show, their reflection No Americanization, your grip of assimilation will never strangle my Pinoy pride For the stench of your colonial vestiges betrays your true intentions No Rudyard Kipling, it was never the White Man’s Burden to preach your gospel of imperialism kissed by Lucifer's lips, the likes of which Painted MY forefathers as your Jungle Book savage in need of their big white brothers But hey, Pia forgot to mention that. After all, she thought that “military presence” is not the same as “military, bases”. But enough saving faces, after all that’s a mistake not even Steve Harvey would make Let’s get back to the no’s right quick like a Pilipina work e-thic we got no time for no breaks No Uncle Sam, we are not blood relatives, we are only in-laws because like your many other concubines my family could not say “no” when you proposed since you held them At Colt .45 Caliber gunpoint after ravaging their home so You will never hold the trophy of “Tito” in my household No American Dream, there is no number of white picket fences, white collars, or white Christmases you can promise that will ever convince me to color my soul in your complexion Nor will you ever eclipse The Risen Son's arrival that will restore every single one of our people’s 7,100 something isles And no, mga kababayan at kapatid, I refuse to tattoo our darker hues with shades of ugliness, evil, and sin but do not Forget, ITM is also “yes”. Yes, summer’s sun, my melanin will be your canvas without skin-whitener contraceptives to numb the touch of your eight rays Yes, Lolo, I will ask to hear the kuwento of your yesterday's so that they may paint my tomorrow's Yes, Lola, I will pray before every meal in gratitude of the blood, sweat, tears, long days, short nights, hello’s and goodbyes, it took to put First World servings of your cooking on my plate Yes, future anak, I will overthrow the emperor's accent so that your generation will be raised by our Mother Rongue Yes, Tito Larry Itliong, though my teachers never heard of you I will learn more of what our people's blistered bodies had to bear in the fields of this Babylon Yes, kapwa, we will taste a decolonized, liberated gospel that embraces the full flavor of our souls like the sweet scent of sour sinigang on a cold American evening And, yes. Yes. Opo I will always remember you. Since my mother could not fit your Luzon sunrise looming over The Pacific in a Balikbayan box because her Hands could not scoop up your warm Bisayan beaches into a bottle because your Lush Mindanao mountains of green would not pass US customs Our Creator gave me a remembrance so I would never forget you: Under the Sun/Son, just like you, I became ITM. Hook (Nicole Arca) Tatlo, dalawa, isa Isa, isang bagsak Isa, dalawa, tatlo Makinig sa aking kuwento Tatlo, dalawa, isa Isa, isang bagsak Isa, dalawa, tatlo Makinig sa ating kuwento Verse 1 In the beginning there was breath but White Man bit forbidden fruit then came death for That tree’s roots grew on his neighbor's promised land Never sipped sweeter juice, it was sown by darker flesh Soil soft as satin, when he scaled the mountains Hues, luscious views threw his lust into a tantrum Who would imagine? Beauty ran rampant so He would do what was allowed by none of his Commandments Barely AD but Armageddon dawned on The Seventh Sailed through seven seas with ships for serpents Bit into The Land, sucked her life into coffins Sold her color at auctions stole her children with doctrines Preached Jesus, prayed to profit like Muhammad so ironic Like love your neighbor but trigger under crosses Then when he preached his 3 point sermon he said “You’re welcome” cause all of it was his burden, ITM Verse 2 Now this kid with dark skin, ended up with a Colorful collection of a buncha white friends some- Body help him, but even his next kin laugh at his ac- -cent his silver-spoon was spoon- Fed who said you can claim this pride? When your insides bleed white tie-die And your outsides tell little white lies White privilege in a brown disguise Backslid every step in reverse bal- -ikbayan in my body, assimilated at birth bap -tized by milk and honey but I died of thirst Bon Appétit hypocrisy ate my white washed words Yeah I talk in dollars, First World problems How I was brought up, we were never ever hard up Mama had the money fruit of labor had us living in the Very land built by that White Man’s Burden, ha? Verse 3 But story isn’t over only getting longer Child of diaspora hyphen is my longest ocean Load on Lola's shoulders sold home for my diploma Lo behold ‘merican Dream holds more like a coma What's a son without a mother? What’s a tongue without her daughters? Bootstraps when The Devil wears Prada? What’s A yesterday forgotten tomorrow? Is it sorrow? How can I get it back when I feel like I can only borrow? Hyphenated identity divided anatomy Amputated memories made mirrors for enemies Perpetual in-betweens on journeys of endless odysseys in a Dance of survival with bones for tinikling so Take a seat in the mezzanine, see a masterpiece Every tale gona sing yesterday’s eulogy grab Your mustard seeds, sow and reap, roots need the leaves we Are the fruit, that was stolen from our tree Outro We, are the fruit, that was stolen from our tree Tayo ang bunga na ninakaw mula sa ating puno O say can you see, what that flag really represents? Blood of our ancestors spilled over dollars and common sense? Waters once clear now seared by their progress? And the skin of assimilation for 99 percent? So pen to paper I wrote a letter for my people’s ears Listen closely, you might find something you needed to hear You see that White Man cannot kill life he can only make it sleep So ITM says “Mabuhay, may Araw na, gising”

Intro (Ms. Kaluluwa) La, la, la, la La, la, la, la La, la, la, la La, la, la, la Verse 1 (ITM) Every ray is a paintbrush Every pore is a canvas Ima paint every campus UC’s, Ivy’s hella Hamilton Mama's son don’t got shade I throw shine Photosynthesize ya shade so it match mine Check the timeline tanning been a pastime Treat ya skin like ya ancestor’s last shrine No sunburns only get sun-kissed Kuya of The Colored Kids yeah he was born itim like Summer skin covered in a sundress the Browner the buko you know the sweeter the juice is Never run from the sun I bathe in 8 rays they say "Just be yourself" then they copy paste how you Gona say that when all ya'll look the same? Shout out to the ABS-CBN’s and the GMA’s! Hook (Ms. Kaluluwa and ITM) La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (getting dark like) La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (getting dark like) La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la (getting dark like) La, la, la, la, la (getting, hella, dark, like) Post-Hook (ITM) Head, shoulders, knees and toes You so dark, ay nako! (4x) Verse 2 (ITM) Sobrang itim parang hatinggabi Ay nako ayaw ko mapuputi Bakit ganun ang iyong isip? Sabi mo lang “oh kasi, kasi, kasi”! If the suns out you know a kid gotta play can’t Get whitewashed when I'm soaking up the rays Ima still tan even on rainy days Iitim ako even if you throw shade! Eight rays for my lotion, never soap him Melanin an ocean, tsinelas no toes in Got hella poems so I’m still posin’ getting Hella dark like the Step-Son of Joseph Ima hug each beam like my Mama Til The Unseen gona see my LABAN so Makinig po kayong lahat like lechon And Chicken Joy the best part is our balat, ITM Bridge (Ms. Kaluluwa) ` Let me see, your true colors You don’t gotta, hide them from me How can, you remember? If, you don’t look in the mirror? Outro (ITM and Michelle) Head, shoulders, knees and toes You so dark, ay nako!

Verse 1 (ITM) Beams hella hot like October in The Bay Rapping Filipino P-Lo not my AKA Dark skin boy but ya tan is a spray SoMa Pilipinas fam, you cannot relate Baon my Tselogs get Kusina ni Tess SOMCAN where the party? YOHANA in Bindlestiff Bay- -anihan all over the City like Mission and 6th Throwing yuppies hella shine now they look ITM Shoutout to you Google and the rest of you techs This is not ya City it belongs to the kids Chano in Chicago we got Mav in the West/I got Mav on the left You don’t got a Chance if you keep raising the rent I Hotel we still won’t move, Migrante marching avenues West Bay, Galing Bata, UP, see your kids right after school We should read some books at Arkipelago like Kuya Bam Grab ya rifle, point at Central SoMa Plan, aim and shoot, braat Hook (Alexa) No matter where I go No matter where you’ll be I will leave my heart With you, with you With (soma, soma SO-MA-HAL) With you, with you With (soma, soma SO-MA-HAL) Verse 2 (Mavy-e) ITM: Gentrify this, and ya gentrify that If my booty was an ave you’d prolly gentrify my Mavy-e : S O M A born and raised You can find me at the V M D yall already Knowing this is where i be Anywhere i really be my heart and soul stay posted on these streets Back when times was easier Back when everybody eats Now you see theres a homeless on every corner of these streets Known as the ghetto to these white people who aint really know sheesh They aint really know the truth Shouts to big unc rut Kept the playaz united Shouts to galing bata west bay youth we gon keep on fighting Shouts to yohana You already knowing south of market my ohana If you wanna raise our rent know you got us bent we gon keep it 99 plus one thats a hunnit Verse 3 (Saico) Welcome to the South of Market’s S-F-C Where community and family is what we be You can find me on Howard, right here by 7th Chilling with the people of the SOMA resident Walk with me to the VMD Park and Rec with them is the place to be We got children at Bessie, Galing Bata Program Tagalog class, feeling closer to our homeland Oh man, I could do this all day After school, we could go yo straight to West Bay While struggle is evident, livin’ in a tenement Living in resistance to fight the series of experiments (?) And so called “development”, insult our intelligence People out here, ready and down to represent While others see it differently, let it be known This is SOMA we’ll fight for, this is our home! Outro Why you gotta be, why you gotta be? (SOMAHAL) But we gotta be, but we gotta be (SOMAHAL)

Part I What have these rappers been doing? Guess White Man decided that’s music Versace, Versace, and Gucci But your skill boo boo more bootleg than bougie Sleep is the cousin of death Your dreams committed incest Rewind that and check what I said So slow but you quick to forget Do, re, me new rappers just sing Sunburning you Biebers when I spit beams Talking like Lola whenever I speak like JesusMarJosep, pack your sheeeet Rolli on ya wrist but you don’t got time Uzi say hello to my Lil Gloc-9 Never been chicken boy this a cock fight Uncle Sam better pray his .45 cock right Can't stomach rhyme schemes, colonoscopy Bars hella up commas are apostrophes Blue Scholar met Bam, brown prodigy conquer Wack rappers you my colony jewels In ya teeth but fool's gold for thoughts but my 2 cents alone gentrified writer's block Lil Whatever's aren't new rap just bad pop Future You no Mad Villain just keep the Mask Off Sige, sige ayusin mong sarili Rapistang dakila ikaw pinakamaliit Dios ko, ay nako, sino ito? Tigas ang ulo niya ay parang bato so hard Bars coming left and right, Lola worked day and night What’s a 9 to 5 to 5 to 9? Now she dine with whites So her English best not correct Protect Ya neck ITM the name don’t forget Part II RIP to the beat I bury Need more of my kind knock Knocksteady Pilipino time but I been ready Part-time grind so shine been steady Spit fire call it body heat Singkilla body beats but buddy Ya got nobody beat Unagii threw the alley I’ma make the ball “-oop” Only 5’6” but I got tall roots Rearrange DC when I drop CD good kids in CP, hella m.a.a.d. cities You so weak like Krillin back in DB Kill a beat when a Trump gets PC PM no see me, too dark for heat-seek PD can’t shoot me, you stuck in G League I’m in THE League, ball up, OG’s Heebie, jeebies toes barely knee-deep Young Kobe with a 8 on his back Repeat three-peat like he got three hats Don’t need beats when I speak "mmm” snap You sucka MCs couldn’t outrap Shaq Hella whack all you talk about is racks Been more fake than alternative facts The glitz, the gats, and the checks looking fat Better run home, ITM up next to bat Going off the dome or off the phone Rappers better stop and leave me in the booth, home alone Whoever owns the throne do not get comfortable Go pray White Jesus colonize ya soul Mama’s son brighter than high beams Gona get a tan when ya blast, Itimothy Industry never cast my type I see So I’ll Chance it ’n rap ‘till I break this Uzumaki fused with DBZ Kamehame .WAV your MP3 Make katsu with Amaturátsu technique Rap Datu ya’ll are shadow clone MC's Vo-cab-u-lary so deep Make even A-mericans nosebleed Fa-mi-ly said go bleach? Oh please! So peace fam let's all go beach! Lolo got fists like a bolo so Punchlines pierce Marco Polos whoa Yours feel oh very so-so no Couldn’t put a heart attack in a chokehold Don’t bear arms but I bear two tongues And your mumbling butt buddy barely got one Wala akong katulad hindi mo alam? Malaki ang ulo mo pero walang laman, ITM

Spoken Word: "Baon" by Meesh "I remember when I was five in Mrs Flora's class. I remember that I must've eaten something gross because I wanted to warm hey of the sucak that would soon leave the floodgates of my mouth if my fingers weren't pinching my lips. then she looked at me confused, frustrated even get eyes spelled something like "what was that or what are you or SPEAK ENGLISH!" And I remember the same combinations of let's furrowed on the eyebrows of every frustrated teacher's white face when they heard my mom's foreign accent. this was my first language lesson: Tagalog was like a good allergy that you develop when you consume it to much. my immune system learned to stack any they to my American born citizenship and the quisiness was really just the acid breaking down my mother tongue, causing me to dry heave until sucak turned into vomit now English is all that I eat. that free range Cage free am I ever really free if I come l vomit words like tigas like a sea sick immigrant looking for a home that was never built for their brown skin. I remember being five in Mrs Flora's class and learning my second language lesson. that I couldn't really be sure what at balikbayan translated to but I knew that it had something to do with return it home or is that bahay? sometimes when I my heart language is never really coupled with a definition bc everyone translation is really just an English approximation and the next time someone asks me if I know the language, I'll rather just tell them that I'm fluent in this feeling it gives me. I remember being five in Mrs Flora's class and to be honest I don't really remember much from that time but I do remember this." Hook I/ya/they/we shoulda, coulda been I/ya/they/we should’ve, woulda been I/ya/they/we shoulda, woulda, coulda Shoulda, coulda, would’a been, listen Verse 1 Didn't know that cutting skin deep could scrape your soul Your village raised a child but the neighbors stole your gold Home is where the heart is but they gentrified your pulse Made you ashamed of the earth growing on your bones said Your soil was dirt they saw death over birth some Cement won’t burn, like bones against words every Stare was a curse, their parents, had rehearsed farce of Colorblind friendship forged from forgotten hurt do they Make you wanna trade away The Potter’s mold? You Wore summer on your skin but now it’s getting cold Mirror on the wall but you blind to all the prose tell me Who was the one without sin to cast the first stone? I wish They could see you like your Mama do maybe Then you would believe there’s nothing wrong with you, ha Just a sampaguita in a bed of tulips but you Gona make our roots proud when you bloom, ITM Tanaga Bittersweet the fruit I see Blossoming from Lotus leaves Purple mountain majesties This land that takes memories Verse 2 I come from a people of copy cats and cover bands Land of catechisms Coca-Colonized by soda cans Where we would rather be K Pop or American ba- -stardized by priests and profits, King Philip and Uncle Sam Light-skin fetishism, Western consumerism Religious Reaganism with a Roman baptism They say to know ya hxstory to know ya self, well Our hxstory was written by someone else so tell me who I’m supposed to be? Can’t speak without a nosebleed the Elephant in the room and no one really even knows me just Ya token dancer friend, token Asian with darker skin The singer songwriter who’ll probably just be a nurse You’ve prolly never even heard of my heroes Rizal, Silang, Bonifacio, Bulosan Vera Cruz, Itliong, the list goes on and on blood Sweat, and tears spilled but now they runneth invisible I long for the day when we’ll sing our own songs like the (*spoken) Long lost harana my Lolo once sung but the Night is still young and she don’t wanna grow up Been so long our skin lost the scent of the Sun so tell me What we could’ve been, would’ve been like If we never had to leave our Motherland for a Promised Land, and I’ll tell all the generations to come To become what we should’ve been Outro (“Ang Dalagang Pilipina”) Ang dalagang Pilipina Parang tala, sa umaga Kung tanawin mo’y nakaliligaya May nining ang puso’t dakilang ganda

Hook Man you hella white-washed! How you get so white-washed? Man you hella white-washed! How you get so white-washed? Nakalimutan mo na? Kung sino-sino ka? Nakalimutan mo ba kung kanino ka anak? Verse 1 Motherland, Motherland custody fights with Uncle Sam Mama passed customs but they said that you were contraband so I’m Accustomed to custody in this Promised Land Customers for milk ’n honey in the invisible hand Transubstantiate when gorged by the bourgeois Revealing bloodshed from a forced Kamasutra Teddy’s Big Stick, Trojan Horse fornication then Colonizers had a bastard named assimilation Motherland, Motherland can you tell me which one I am? I don't sound Pinoy but I'm too dark to be American I hear you answer but I cannot really understand I’m Lost in translation my first language stole the map Teacher said it’s black and white, Mom tell me which one am I? Lola had the alibi, dreamed a dream with open eyes When she made days outta nights now our front lawn’s the greener side but it’s Watered by the tears of long goodbyes and endless tides Have we sold our souls, for some Fool's gold? Lola’s Four scores, all for open doors and a cubicle? Mama’s white collar never really felt, suitable But it bought a silver spoon, forged from her crucible ten Subos of Lotus-blossoms from Lady Liberty Homesick's opiate that wipes away the memories American Dream, is Motherland’s euthanasia So close your eyes and pray to God you catch amnesia, ITM Interlude from Elaine Castillo’s America Is Not The Heart (2017) “Not for the first time, your own mind terrified you: the careless black-hole greediness of it, that you could leave things there thinking they were safe, and then turn around and find that they’d been eaten away ... destroyed nonchalantly by something mightier in you ... whose name was, what, even? Forgetting.” (p. 285) Verse 2 Well just forget, where you from, you worked hard, now you’re done If you can, overcome, memories, every one Pick a wife, pick a spouse, pick a house, with a pool With a school, get approved, for some loans, college soon Add some friends, pick and choose, but the black ones bad for you Pick a picket fence so potential neighbors will not bother you Pick a pew, hang on ya white pastor’s every word, the Good Noose, pick a side, left or right, both got fairer hues Pick ya news with fairer views, their picket signs don’t got no proof Pick a sport, pick and roll respect the red, white, and blue Pick the flag, pledge allegiance just the way they tell you to Even though living on our knees is what we already do Getting comfortable? Successful? Like a Huxtable Nice collectibles, getting full? Need a bigger room Pick a cake and eat it too, save some face with peek-a-boo Need a pick me up to play a pick up game of duck, duck, goose Cause if you, complain they just might, switch ya place well there’s No such thing as race but better pick up the pace cause guilt is A trip, wait but you got too much on ya plate Gotta raise some kids and make sure they live exactly the same, so just Rest in peace, underneath, cul-de-sacs and money trees Sea to shining sea home of the brave oh say, can you see? Forgot the sin of Sodom Lotus-Blossoms fresh for picking so don’t Be afraid to die cause you already picked ya poison, ITM Verse 3 Before you stopped being a probinsyana before Taga-Real became Americana Before paradise behind a picket fence and trading Your allegiance to be a citizen did you Always know, that you would, have to leave? That you’d Uproot our family tree when it grew some new leaves? Far away from the province when you weren’t promised A single inch of square feet in our, suburban palace? Or maybe there was a time you wanted to stay And lay in the same land where your ancestors remain Maybe if your grass was as green as they say The other side is after all you wanna raise a child someday 20 years later now I’m tryna be a man wearing A white tongue and a couple red hands and My mother left her Motherland for The Promised Land But every promise has some clauses written by hidden hands Yeah Mama, we made it in America And I’m so grateful even though I do complain a lot You took me to places most kids only dream of But I got stuck between survivor’s guilt and freedom can’t Really say how thankful I am but what do I do? Forgetting our people’s like not remembering you I heard our home was 7,000 miles away so I’m Retracing all your steps cause I’ll forget if I stay, ITM

Intro: “Jesus Loves the Little Children” (Nanaushika) Hook (ITM) Red, yellow, black, and white Tell me which, one am I? Red, white, and blue Tell me, tell me where were You Verse 1 (Nanaushika) There’s a whip in the preacher’s hand Strange fruit in this Promised Land You came from the hands of thieves So do you belong to me? Verse 2 (ITM) If I should die before I Wake I’ll tell The Lord to Take my people in my Place already saw Heaven in my day Cooking on my plate Bittersweet the taste of K’s, AmeriKKKa Tell me do You see? Or are You make-believe? If You love my enemies What do You mean to me? The pews became a maze I cannot see Your face Crowds are in my way Clouds have blocked the rays Are these growing pains? Or am I losing faith? Are You even there? Or are You saving face? So Many called (*breath) but You Never came so where were You when they prayed? Tell me, tell me where were You when they prayed Tell me where were You Where were You, where the Fuck were you when they... Interlude (Nanaushika & Yiann) Outro (ITM & Nanaushika) Red, yellow, black and white Tell me which one am I Red, white, and blue Tell me where the hell are you Who you are robbed me of who I am Your answers silenced my questions You are not God but since so many bow Down to you, what’s the difference? The taste of your grace in my conquered mouth Is as bitter as the brick and mortar Syllables forced down our throats, so please Tell me where the hell Are You?

When my Lola speaks I no longer find something to laugh at or be embarrassed of I hear “P”s, "b's" and “i”s pierce her English like Lapu-Lapu's kampilan impaling the pale flesh of Magellan’s "f"'s "v"'s and "e"s I feel Her Nanay’s fingertips cradling every consonant and vowel she carries I taste Home-cooked memories that put premium American meat on a brown boy's growing bones I smell The sea-salt of Real, Quezon that wipes away my inherited homesickness like the Scent of Vick’s in my Mom’s palms I see Waterproof smiles made of bamboo yet stronger than steel that refuse to bend backwards Even when everything is taken away so her accent Must be fluent in resilience. When I was little I mistook her mixed up pronouns and muffled comprehension for misplaced intelligence so I Never noticed that her immigrant tongue had been coronated with callouses from doing Twice the work While mine was more familiar with the taste of silver spoons and McKinley’s alphabet so Somewhere in our conversations her accent got Lost in translation And now as I try to find it my hyphen became a game of tug-of-war between two tongues Arguing over my body That still makes me stumble clumsily over every single syllable As my mouth fights the after-taste of Lotus Flowers to Remember To pag-pag my Anglo-Saxon “ae” with a Pinoy “ah” To remember to punctuate my sentences with a “po” to Remember to point my lips like an index finger To pronounce words with so many letters sandwiched together they look like crammed jeepneys to play The staccato of scattered “na”’s and “ba”s” but held by my tongue these Are worn more like hand-me-down’s that Never really belonged to me So though it was supposed to feel like home My family’s language feels as foreign to me as this land did to my family but when my Lola speaks I no longer find something to laugh at or be embarrassed of So I will keep reaching for Every letter Like a child seeing his OFW mother Finally coming back home And one day My tongue will make tinikling sticks out of every sentence and dance with my Lola In fluent Quezon Tagalog resilience. Dahil ito ang aking totoong aksent

Refrain Anong sabi mo? ‘Di ko naintindihan Bakit, ganun? Baka nakalimutan mo! Verse Kuya Tim: 1+1? Students: Magellan! Kuya Tim: 2+2? Students: Lapu Lapu! Kuya Tim: 3+3? Students: Christmas Tree! Kuya Tim: 4+4? Students: Bagong Bapor! Kuya Tim: 5+5? Students: Voltos Five! Kuya Tim: 6+6? Students: Six Million! Kuya Tim: 7+7? Students: 7Up! Kuya Tim: 8+8? Students: Chocolate! Kuya Tim: 9+9? Students: Lucky 9! Kuya Tim: 10+10? Students: President!

Intro (Nicole Arca) Huwag, huwag kalimutan Huwag, huwag kalimutan Kahit, malapit o malayo Huwag kalimutan ako Hook (Nicole Arca & ITM) Huwag, huwag kalimutan Huwag, huwag kalimutan (oh don’t forget, don’t forget no) Kahit, malapit o malayo (whether near, whether far, whether near or far) Huwag kalimutan ako Verse (ITM) Kuya of the Colored Kids don’t forget how Where I’m from they wouldn’t let me be proud But my loud mouth preaching in Tagalog now Duterte palayain mo ang Mindanao! Ya boy been the darkest Asian Beams so bright I sunburned Satan I-T-M don’t forget what the name is, kids Call me Kuya I’m already famous Ancestors for authors I’ma looseleaf Green shoot with deep roots on a huge tree Fruit of my foremothers’ poetry, the new Breeze who sees new seeds in due spring Body for a temple got church in my skeleton make Ya eat papaya soap if ya touch my melanin Noli Me Tángere nor Lola’s sentences Magellan Turns his grave when I palo orange presidents Dark skin, light skin oh please Mama kissed her son even when he sun-kissed Mirror, mirror who's the fairest? Red White and blue the true colors of, pig-skin I’ma wear barong when I say “I do” Tie my neck if I ever follow suit Should the weeds grow and you forget ya roots here’s A remembrance from ITM to you, like Outro (Spoken Word) The house I grew up in Was on the corner of American Dreams and model minorities. It was tucked softly among rows of other Levittown cookie-cutter castles laced by streets paved with milk and honey My Lola's blood, sweat, and tears came in pesos But she saved them up until she could buy my Mom a white collar And 1 way tickets to this Promised Land All in American dollars "Kakayod ng gabi at araw" My first words came in a thick 2nd Generation accent that had no traces of Real, Quezon in them By the time they grew into full-fledged sentences, they were being flung across our dinner table right back at my Lola Stuffed full with First World ungratefulness and entitlement Because I didn't like her Filipino cooking "Walang hiya" Before they knew it, their former tempter tantrum champion turned 20 Something And is now going off on his own, leaving that house quieter than it has ever been I think most of us suburban kids from immigrant homes learn to be grateful that our families, “made it” We gradually realize the sacrifices paid for our sake So we could have a nice house to grow up in with a homegrown American accent to boot But as for me, I can't help but also think about what and who we left behind So maybe this hyphen our families bought for us is actually a subtraction symbol Because the more we stay in these big houses with quiet neighborhoods The less we remember those who will never grow up in them And the less we remember who we really are “huwag kalimutan”