Sagging skin- face look like salvador dali art When I was six, mom used to shop at the dollar mart Namak para, chicken tikka shan in the shopping cart
Then I moved to Main Street, 27 bussed it Styrofoam biryani while I rode up to the masjid Give me any font script, I bet I could bust it Arabic to sanskrit, fajr to al-maghrib
Y’all can call me zina cause I’m nothing you should fuck with, baate with the aunties at the Pakistani functions Chuckle with the uncles over khulfi and jelabi Allah-bakshe if you play me, you might maybe catch these hands like henna mehndi Call me akshay, hera pheri, can you blame me
But I bleed brown Y’all can never take that away no
Foreigners get the boot like brasilly presidenta Further from the truth, making mentes in fazendas Sempre alimenta, chicken nug, monica Pops quit smoking now he puffing his harmonica
Never had a turma, ago was the only one What the funk is starbucks, quero cafe da manha Dalmata, seeing things b&w, musica Be above, be a beetle, mama had a fusca
Incorrect grammar like mano who done shoot ya Racionais wu tang ‘spiracao, 2pac If you step inside my casa, best to take ya shoes off Don’t wanna see nothing suja, it’s true my
Parents learnt english speech watching the news I had cookies, milk dipping, Tigo majin the buu Rocking the bowlcut, dressing in overalls Binging with bowls of cocoa puffs since I moved
But I bleed south, ya’ll could never take that away no
Post-election my white friends tell me to be brave Dad says I should behave Mom says get a clean shave
Hijabi aunties jilt mantillas like they in a heat wave Cousin saying this shit’s like what jim crowe was to free slaves Uncle disagree with that analogy that he gave Says the fact that we don’t feel safe is proof that we just need faith
Cousin zoning out on youtube watching Louis C.K Dad starts talking bout islamic faith and has a field day Ammi change the subject by handing out chai and tea cakes Saying “pi kay dhekley”, they answer “bilkull theek hai”
I’m there in the corner playing DK Kong Country Collecting all the red balloons for funsies Mom is making lassi, mango, asks me if I can go Pray with all the family While she counting out the tasbih Fussy, I tell her not to rush me Like mom, I’m on the mine cart level and I’m rusty Trust me, mom pulls out the plug tho I can’t really front tho, make my way downstairs and I read as’r with the uncles
Aunties asking me about my love life Say they a know a girl in peshawar for me that looks like A cross between aishwarya and like, the emma stone type Saying I should wife her up on viber, maybe on skype Lately I’ve searching for my dhulan with my phone swipes Lately I’ve been thinking bout my own tribe, drone strikes
But I bleed brown Y’all can never take that away no