Lyrics

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
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
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