(Intro – soft) They said "How Hawaiian are you?" Like my worth had a percentage. Like my love for ʻāina came with fractions. (Verse 1) Blood on paper. Not the blood in my chant, Not the blood in my hands planting kalo, Not the blood that rises when I see stolen land. They drew a line — 50 percent. Not to lift us, But to split us. Cut ʻohana with a colonial knife, Make us beg for what we already are. (Chorus – rising) Got Koko? Yeah, I get. But I also got moʻokūʻauhau — deep. Got ʻāina in my lungs, Kanaka blood in my feet. I no need your test, Your registry, Your decree. I already know — I’m still here. I still bleed. (Verse 2) HHCA — The "help" that held us down. Land promised, But only for the ones who pass the test. What test? The one written in Congress, Not in the loʻi, Not by kūpuna, But by men who never heard a pu. They said: "Eventually, there'll be none left." Like we’re supposed to fade. But we multiply — in heart, in breath, in rage. (Bridge – slow) Kauanui reminds us — Sovereignty ain’t about stats. Ain’t about charts or census maps. It’s about connection. To the kū. To the kai. To the fire that made this land — and us. (Final Chorus – powerful) Got Koko? Yeah, I get. But don’t ask me how much. Ask me where I stand. Ask me who I fight for. Ask me what I love. Kanaka blood — It’s more than a number. It’s a birthright. It’s a burn. It’s a beat that never stops. (Outro – whisper) They tried to count us out. But they forgot — Kanaka don’t vanish. We rise.
