Muslim Belal, Castillo Nasheeds, Masikah - Streets 2 Islam 2 lyrics
[Muslim Belal, Castillo Nasheeds, Masikah - Streets 2 Islam 2 lyrics]
Bismillah, ha ha, yeah
MB, Mas, can’t believe we at it again
You know, ABC Life, R2I
Yeah, I hope you’re ready
Haha, yo, let’s go, yo
Back when I was a yute
The brother never had a lot
Now I’m tryna swing my sword, cammin' up
Back then, I was a yute man having shots
Like pen on Eid, it’s my go, have a shot
I used to know nuff man would smash a rabala
Bare robberies
Know they’re behind the slammer shut
We used to jam and plot, amped up
Stackin guat we used to beat down cops
Round here on our block
And now the dawah pops
I know you see it blud
You might switch to this ting
From tryna be a thug that was yesterday
When the trap had man getting paid
Dunya and akhirah, now I seek a better way
The uncle says I talk too much
About where I’m coming from
You might have a nephew on the
Same path I was on
But, you can’t relate when he tells
You that he has a gun
You might get vexed and send
The yute back to Pakistan
And we don’t have imaan
We ain’t shy anymore
We used to conceal our sins
Now, we don’t eye it no more
We used to have modesty
And keep our eyes on the floor
Now, we all up in the
Grill like we buying Lahore i’m on my face
I ain’t talking bout being broke
People I knew
Made their way off of weed and coke
I had to change
I knew I couldn’t take this deen for joke
I fear Allah, bro I ain’t tryna see the smoke
Black emirati, front row, say suttin
I get it in bro, I can see the grave coming
Nuff of them hate our Roadside2Islam
Does it hate the brothers
Not the da’wah brother, to islam
Chasing the dunya
Was something that I would do
Now you can’t catch the big man
Without wudhu it’s only Allah and his Rusool
S W-A-S, I came dressed my brother stay fresh
Protect my heart from diseases, Latex
I might be the one who
Allah decrees the grave next
So I get the ajr in early, paycheck
Now look who I’ve become, bro
Everyday I push the sinning to the back
Now I’m living in Salat (Pray Hard)
And there’s no more sitting in them traps
With a Guinness and a strap (Changed paths)
I really thought I was winning then in flats
But my thinking then was gassed
My soul is on a roadtrip
Every minute is a crash
The success is in the failing
So I’ve been in here from scratch
Yo, MB, Yo well, I’m a black Kunta Kinte
House slave, field slave
Young Daniel-san and Muhammad is my sensei
I was spending money in Versace and Fendi
Now I’m getting new Emiratis, tailor made
I was drinking Moët & Chandon in the partay
Now I’m third row in Acton
Praying qiyam layl
You can hear my brothers’ passion
By the Ameens when you hear ‘Free Filistin’
Watch the room scream light on this journey
I don’t even need a bag
All I need’s shahadah on my
Sword like a Saudi flag
Beard on my chin, Muslim when I roll up
Yemeni scarf
And my tracksuit bottoms rolled up
They can look and laugh
But we know when this is all up
Who Allah?, face is darkened
Whose is glowing up
I’m on this thing till I’m older
In'shaa'Allah, stay on deen like a soldier
You’re looking at a young son of Adam
Father of Sumaya
Mirror to my brother, Black slave of Allah
Leader for the younger, follower of Sa7abah
Muslim Belal named after Ibn Rabaa7
Mother was a struggler, daddy was a hustler
Raised in the south
In the centre of the gutter
Now I can see more than the world
They put in front of me
Praise to the Lord, fortunate
Look what he’s done for me
They used to call me Smalls, now it’s Muslim
Now I’m left thinking bout this life
And what it could’ve been
All of this around me, trust me
I weren’t expecting
I’m standing in the mosque, shoes
Off with my bredrin, you listening
I came a long way, Islam isn’t easy
If Muslim I didn't have to be
I wouldn’t have been believe me
Sometimes, I’m waking up to pray
Eyes are all sleepy
Allah doesn’t need me but I need him
Trust me
Heaven is a must-be, open up the doors for me
MB, Masikah, man
MB, Mas, can’t believe we at it again
You know, ABC Life, R2I
Yeah, I hope you’re ready
Haha, yo, let’s go, yo
Back when I was a yute
The brother never had a lot
Now I’m tryna swing my sword, cammin' up
Back then, I was a yute man having shots
Like pen on Eid, it’s my go, have a shot
I used to know nuff man would smash a rabala
Bare robberies
Know they’re behind the slammer shut
We used to jam and plot, amped up
Stackin guat we used to beat down cops
Round here on our block
And now the dawah pops
I know you see it blud
You might switch to this ting
From tryna be a thug that was yesterday
When the trap had man getting paid
Dunya and akhirah, now I seek a better way
The uncle says I talk too much
About where I’m coming from
You might have a nephew on the
Same path I was on
But, you can’t relate when he tells
You that he has a gun
You might get vexed and send
The yute back to Pakistan
And we don’t have imaan
We ain’t shy anymore
We used to conceal our sins
Now, we don’t eye it no more
We used to have modesty
And keep our eyes on the floor
Now, we all up in the
Grill like we buying Lahore i’m on my face
I ain’t talking bout being broke
People I knew
Made their way off of weed and coke
I had to change
I knew I couldn’t take this deen for joke
I fear Allah, bro I ain’t tryna see the smoke
Black emirati, front row, say suttin
I get it in bro, I can see the grave coming
Nuff of them hate our Roadside2Islam
Does it hate the brothers
Not the da’wah brother, to islam
Chasing the dunya
Was something that I would do
Now you can’t catch the big man
Without wudhu it’s only Allah and his Rusool
S W-A-S, I came dressed my brother stay fresh
Protect my heart from diseases, Latex
I might be the one who
Allah decrees the grave next
So I get the ajr in early, paycheck
Now look who I’ve become, bro
Everyday I push the sinning to the back
Now I’m living in Salat (Pray Hard)
And there’s no more sitting in them traps
With a Guinness and a strap (Changed paths)
I really thought I was winning then in flats
But my thinking then was gassed
My soul is on a roadtrip
Every minute is a crash
The success is in the failing
So I’ve been in here from scratch
Yo, MB, Yo well, I’m a black Kunta Kinte
House slave, field slave
Young Daniel-san and Muhammad is my sensei
I was spending money in Versace and Fendi
Now I’m getting new Emiratis, tailor made
I was drinking Moët & Chandon in the partay
Now I’m third row in Acton
Praying qiyam layl
You can hear my brothers’ passion
By the Ameens when you hear ‘Free Filistin’
Watch the room scream light on this journey
I don’t even need a bag
All I need’s shahadah on my
Sword like a Saudi flag
Beard on my chin, Muslim when I roll up
Yemeni scarf
And my tracksuit bottoms rolled up
They can look and laugh
But we know when this is all up
Who Allah?, face is darkened
Whose is glowing up
I’m on this thing till I’m older
In'shaa'Allah, stay on deen like a soldier
You’re looking at a young son of Adam
Father of Sumaya
Mirror to my brother, Black slave of Allah
Leader for the younger, follower of Sa7abah
Muslim Belal named after Ibn Rabaa7
Mother was a struggler, daddy was a hustler
Raised in the south
In the centre of the gutter
Now I can see more than the world
They put in front of me
Praise to the Lord, fortunate
Look what he’s done for me
They used to call me Smalls, now it’s Muslim
Now I’m left thinking bout this life
And what it could’ve been
All of this around me, trust me
I weren’t expecting
I’m standing in the mosque, shoes
Off with my bredrin, you listening
I came a long way, Islam isn’t easy
If Muslim I didn't have to be
I wouldn’t have been believe me
Sometimes, I’m waking up to pray
Eyes are all sleepy
Allah doesn’t need me but I need him
Trust me
Heaven is a must-be, open up the doors for me
MB, Masikah, man