LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii

LO QUE LE PASÓ A HAWAii is a profound social and political critique disguised as a melancholic ballad. At its core, the song is a desperate warning to the people of Puerto Rico about the dangers of gentrification, displacement, and the loss of cultural identity. Bad Bunny draws a sharp and painful parallel between Puerto Rico and Hawaii, using the latter as a cautionary tale of an island paradise that was consumed by American colonization, over-tourism, and the erasure of indigenous culture.

The lyrics personify Puerto Rico as a woman who is suffering but maintaining a brave face. The reference to the "jíbaro" forced to move to Orlando addresses the massive wave of migration caused by economic hardship and political corruption, asserting that this exodus is a systemic expulsion rather than a voluntary choice. By mentioning specific assets like "the river," "the beach," and "the neighborhood," the song critiques Act 20/22 (now Act 60) and other policies that have encouraged foreign investment at the expense of locals, often leading to the privatization of public lands.

The recurring mention of "lelolai"—a traditional vocal refrain in Puerto Rican folk music—serves as a symbol of resistance. It represents the indigenous and distinct soul of the island that must be preserved against homogenization. The warning "Ten cuida'o, Luis" (Be careful, Luis) acts as an intimate, direct address, possibly to the common man or a specific figure, grounding the grand political message in a personal, human concern.

The song opens with a dreamlike, sorrowful narrative describing a woman who appears beautiful despite her internal struggles and hardships. Her resilience is painted through imagery of a smile masking tears, while the sea foam on her shores is likened to champagne—a luxury that serves as alcohol to cleanse her deep wounds rather than for celebration. The lyrics transport the listener into the lush, green mountains of the island, a place where one can still breathe freely and feel closer to the divine, contrasting the natural sanctity with the encroaching threats.

The narrative then shifts to the heartbreaking reality of the jíbaro (the Puerto Rican country dweller), who is heard weeping as he is forced to leave his homeland. The lyrics explicitly mention his reluctance to migrate to Orlando, highlighting that he was pushed out by corruption rather than choice. This displacement is presented not as a singular event but as an ongoing tragedy with no clear end in sight.

In the powerful chorus, the singer voices a direct plea and warning. He identifies the aggressors as those who want to privatize the natural resources—stealing the rivers and beaches—and gentrify the neighborhoods, forcing the elderly (abuelita) and future generations to leave. The central rallying cry urges the listener not to let go of their flag or forget their cultural roots (symbolized by the lelolai), explicitly warning Puerto Rico to avoid the fate of Hawaii—a land perceived in the song as having lost its sovereignty and essence to colonization and tourism. The song concludes with a repetitive, mantra-like invocation of the lelolai chant, reinforcing a commitment to cultural preservation.

Released in early January 2025 as part of the album DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS, this track marked a significant return to socially conscious lyricism for Bad Bunny. The song was written amidst growing tensions in Puerto Rico regarding the privatization of beaches, the energy crisis, and the displacement of locals by wealthy foreign investors.

Production-wise, the track deviates from the heavy trap or reggaeton beats typical of Bad Bunny's commercial hits. Instead, it was produced by MAG, Tainy, and La Paciencia, who crafted a stripped-back instrumental focused on the cuatro (a traditional Puerto Rican string instrument) and güiro. This choice was deliberate, aiming to evoke the sound of classic Puerto Rican música jíbara to align with the song's themes of heritage and tradition. The song was reportedly inspired by Bad Bunny's own observations of his homeland's transformation and the similar struggles faced by the native population of Hawaii, creating a solidarity between the two archipelagos.

The song utilizes a simple, folk-inspired rhyme scheme, often employing AABB or ABCB structures that are characteristic of traditional décimas or ballads. The rhymes are generally perfect rhymes in Spanish (e.g., llorar/bailar/sanar, playa/vaya), which gives the lyrics a chant-like, memorable quality, making them suitable for protest.

Rhythmically, the song avoids a driving percussion beat. Instead, it follows the organic, swaying tempo of the string instruments. The pacing is deliberate and slow, allowing every word to land with weight. The absence of a dembow rhythm forces the listener to pay attention to the message rather than the groove, creating a somber and reflective atmosphere.

Musical Minimalism: The production uses a "less is more" approach, relying heavily on acoustic guitar and the cuatro. This folk instrumentation grounds the song in the jíbaro tradition, instantly signaling to the listener that this is a song about roots and identity, not a club anthem.

Silence as an Instrument: The track is notable for its use of sudden stops and silences. Critics and fans have interpreted these pauses as representing the frequent power outages (apagones) plaguing Puerto Rico, adding a layer of sonic protest to the lyrical one.

Direct Address: The use of the second person ("Te quieren quitar...", "Ten cuida'o") creates a sense of urgency and intimacy, making the listener feel personally responsible for the defense of the land.

Personification: The island is personified as a resilient female figure, evoking empathy and a sense of protectiveness from the audience.

Upon its release in 2025, the song immediately became an anthem for anti-gentrification movements in Puerto Rico. It resonated deeply with locals who had felt the pressure of rising housing costs and the privatization of public beaches. The comparison to Hawaii sparked widespread conversation across social media about the shared struggles of colonized island nations.

The song's use of traditional instruments sparked a renewed interest in música jíbara among younger generations of Bad Bunny's fanbase. It is considered a pivotal track in his discography, cementing his status not just as a global pop star, but as a political voice for Puerto Rico, following in the footsteps of previous protest tracks like "El Apagón" and "Afilando los Cuchillos".

Hawaii as a Mirror: The central metaphor of the song is Hawaii itself. It represents a dystopic future for Puerto Rico—a place where the native population has been marginalized, the land sold to outsiders, and the culture commodified for tourists. It serves as the ultimate "what if" scenario for Puerto Rican independence and identity.

The Woman / The Island: The lyrics describe a woman who "looks beautiful even when things go wrong." This is an allegory for Puerto Rico, often romanticized as an enchanting paradise for tourists while its actual inhabitants suffer from infrastructure failures and economic collapse.

Alcohol for Wounds: The line "Son alcohol pa' las herida'" (It's alcohol for the wounds) subverts the party imagery often associated with tropical settings. Instead of rum or champagne being used for celebration, the natural beauty (foam of the sea) is a painful disinfectant for the trauma of the island's history.

Lelolai: This onomatopoeic phrase is more than just a sound; it symbolizes the oral history, the joy, and the resistance of the Puerto Rican spirit. Forgetting the lelolai is equated to spiritual death.

"No suelte' la bandera ni olvide' el lelolai" (Don't let go of the flag nor forget the lelolai): This is the song's central hook and moral command. Its repetition transforms the song into a pledge of allegiance to the culture.

"Quieren quitarme..." (They want to take from me...): The repetition of this phrase emphasizes the aggressive and extractive nature of the forces acting against the island. It lists the items being stolen—river, beach, neighborhood—creating a cumulative effect of total loss.

"Y no se sabe hasta cuándo" (And no one knows until when): This phrase acts as a bridge, highlighting the uncertainty and the seemingly endless nature of the struggle.