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

[Verse 1: Masikah & Muslim Belal]
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
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
Black emirati, front row, say suttin
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

[Verse 2: Muslim Belal]
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
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…