Muslim Belal - No Role Model lyrics

Where should I begin?
They put me in the entertainment section
So I guess I should be entertaining
I should probably do some poetry
Mess around with vocabulary
Try sound all intelligent like those guys
That live with purpose and meaning
Nah, you know me i'd rather that
No paper no pen straight from the heart
Talk about what I'm feeling, how I'm feeling
You know like
How comes those on stage are the
Ones that get the most praise
And they come off stage and
Return to the most sin? You know when these
Righteous trousers and this pious
Shirt comes off
When I return to my black skin
It's just me again, human again oh sorry
You thought I was gonna walk around
The house reciting Qur'an and poetry
He didn't realise I'd be slumped
In front of the
TV in a white vest screaming at the screen
Watching match of the day
I must've forgot to snap about that
So you fell in love with the profile picture
The guy with the Arabic hat
And then you saw me face to face
Lost your breath, slowed your step
And asked for one quick picture please
Like I was worth something
I went home, ate some noodles
Stressed about bills
Cried about life cuz really I'm worth nothing
You see this pillow knows the
Sins of my thoughts
My phone knows the sins of my eyes
You know my profile, so you raise me up high
Thank you, it's been a pleasure
Now let's get back to reality
I pray Allah don't hold me accountable
For misguiding this young army
And I'm praying these youths don't say
They wanna be just like me
Cuz my sins are like mountains
I remember I was at the Zamzam fountain
Begging for forgiveness
I remember looking at this life
Saying Ya Allah I don't wanna live this
Cuz we are not Anbiya, we are just people
And I know I might be a big
Inspiration to some of my people
But at the end of the day
Me and you are still equal
You see I am not a role model
And I am gonna die soon
So I'm standing in front of this
Prayer mat in my small room
Like paradise was on my right
Hellfire was on my left
In front of me was Allah
Behind me the Angel of Death
Praying like it's my last prayer
Living like it's my last year
Reading Purification of the Soul
On this armchair
Looking at my collection of books
Ibn Taymiyyah looking at the students I'm
Jealous, Ibn Qayyim, ibn Kathir
Thinking about their level of eman
Wishing I could be there
But, I'm still here
Getting bitten by the same snake
Again and again and again
Sinning and repenting, sinning and repenting
Sinning again welcome to the life of a poet
No paper, no pen