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the transition - muslim belal lyrics

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hook: x2
jamaica is my background, london is my birthplace
why didn’t they teach me about islam in the first place?
i was on the brink of walking around with a hurt face
good thing, i wasn’t too cool to read the first page

verse:
from the outside, looking in
a ghetto child, lingering
thinking, “should i take it now?”
the thoughts were just wavering
will it make my daddy proud? what am i gonna say to him?
can i go back to my house? “mummy, i’m a muslim!”
how’s she gonna take it down? how they gonna take it in?
will i end up kicked out? will i get a kick-in?
i don’t know what do, i gotta plan my next move
i wanna take shahadah soon, i really gotta think it through
what’s right for me, i gotta do, live for me and not for you
i don’t believe that is true, the things i read up in the news
it’s my choice, imma choose, i ain’t got nothing to lose
this is the religion of truth, bring the books, found the proof
isma’il came to me, sit me down and says to me
what’s your purpose in life? cuz it just looks like a game to me
i would think, occasionally
isma’il was right, i need to fix-up my life
tonight, could be my last night
now, just before the summer, year 2002
my mind’s already had a wonder, it’s time to make a move
i made my way down to the studz, i linked up with my crew
i’m sitting on the single chair; i’m running my fingers through my hair
i said, “yo israfil, is your older brother here?”
thankfully, he says “yeah, isma’il is downstairs
he’ll be up in a minute. he’s having a word with his mother”
he comes up, i tell him i wanna take my shahadah
he looks at me and smiles, i stand up, receive a hug
he says, “i see you as a friend no more, i look at you like a bruv”
now i can feel the love, no longer feeling lost
he said to “take off your cross, let’s take a drive to new cross”
i met my uncle y-sser and his brothers from all over
they said it’s time to leave the ghetto life way over your shoulder
i said, “lā ilāha illā-llāh, muḥammadur-rasūlu-llāh”
there’s no true god except allah, muhammad is his messenger
i ain’t going church no more, i’m going jum’ah
friday, streatham mosque, mumtaz done the khutbah
i wanted to get the front row, i had to get there early
he read the prayer in arabic, i understood it barely
really gotta learn it quick, i got myself a teacher
then i went to egypt, so i could learn the language better
feeling all emotional, i wrote my mum a letter
in egypt feeling lonely, wanted to find myself a lover
i tried to get married, i suffered a bit of racism
he said she couldn’t be with me because my parents were jamaican
and i say, “hey, but i still pray, fast in ramadan”
he said, “no daughter of mine is marrying a black man”
i said, “ok, imma make dua’ for you and you know what, brother, just make dua’ for me too”

hook: x2
jamaica is my background, london is my birthplace
why didn’t they teach me about islam in the first place?
i was on the brink of walking around with a hurt face
good thing, i wasn’t too cool to read the first page

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