The Khutbah (Sermon)

Dark Days

Traitors (Get'em Out)

Close 2 Me

2004 and things have changed it ain’t the same no more. Whilst before they only stared at you, nowadays they try to force their opinion, entering your dominion talking about rights and your low stature. Everything from your role as a mother, to the scarf that you cover with, in the stands, bearing witness to one thing or another and overruled if you object, your honor is under pressure, cause the shields that protect you are getting shorter and lesser. I see you struggle just to find meals, fighting the wind and rain in search of those Halal deals, knowing the gain is yet to come and when there’s no wheels you carry baby Zahra in one hand till she feels heavier than the shopping bags. My son at your heals trying hard to be a man in the absence

of his father. Hand inside your hand trying to lead you through the jahil streets, reciting Suras that you taught him only just last week. You’re my rock you give me strength and power through your insistence that we both go out and carry this dawah. I love my sisters and I’ll die before I see you harmed in front of me, then in my grave I’ll beg invoke Allah to see you free from all the suffering you’ve felt so far because of me. I let it slip and now the damned Kuffar are blatantly attacking you, your ideas, your loves, your fears and for years all we have seen are your tears forgive us sister.

 

45WG Reporting

They don’t know you, think they got you sussed. Got the world believing that you grieving down to us. In the West its tough, it ain’t enough that they swear and frown at you they even dare to raise their hands at you. I know its hard walking them streets and boulevards from your head to your feet jilbabed and scarved. With sun blazing heat burning up the concrete, folks gazing like you’re about to bomb the high street. Enough hate in their glares to get your skin scarred and barred from schoolyards by the bourgeois. Cause where you’re at what you wear is un-bearable part of the fact is your faith is un-tearable. You got’em all shook, so their new hook is banning your veil and liberating you with New Look, Season Channel, nudity, Gucci and Fcuk as they cook a plot in their melting pot that simmers in hell well. These damn crooks, they want us all hooked on their secular thought caught up in a war fought through magazines and books pumping their liberal filth and gook, their plan is destroy your Iman and have Islam forsook. And now they’re searching every cranny and nook, and now they’re marching out their armies and sending their spooks. Even back home ain’t as safe as it should be, I swear we’re working hard so it would be. You see the West’s is planning in stealth hence all you’ve seen in Philastine has been drama and death. In Iraq all we’ve had is pure trauma and wealth usurped, whilst your kids struggle for breath. And it’s a mess but you stand firm nevertheless. Tall and proud in your shroud you wont settle for less. Oppressed, living in fear did make you cry; Mutasima fell on deaf ears but didn’t break you. It made you a soldier you stayed true and now you’re striving raising an army to save you. Never again allowing a man to enslave you, a brave few reviving a nation beside you and rising!

 

And it’s a Fard that we protect your honor. I know its hard to believe you have so many brothers and still ain’t safe in the streets today. You’re missing school again and again and hey say they’ll let you attend, sister as long as you bend but you stand straight and tall, jilbab and all, going from school to school, checking their protocols. Although you do value your education, no hesitation in rejecting calls for integration, standing ovation. You understand this is test no less and progress is just a matter of who worships best. So redress the balance, aim much higher than that. Become a mother, doctor, engineer no fear it’s a fact you can do anything you want to do your limits are, that which are sent down by your creator and you know they hate that and all the fuss they make is only cause they’re jealous. A pack of wolves hunting the sheep don’t weep your shepherds are back and they’re stacked with an agenda not to render this Deen. Aint no pretenders like the leaders we’ve seen. Believe we say what we mean. I know its hard being a throne-less Queen, Al Hakim has promised all that you dream. And in between that time and this, persist, stay strong, as long as we exist we’ll do our best to assist. You belong to an Ummah that is fighting hard to rid you of wrong. I know its hard and your tired and scarred from all the places your barred, but don’t cry you know we’ve come this far, try till we die fi sa bil Allah (on the way of Allah).

Yesterday I was dreaming I dreamt of The State we made, a place with purpose and meaning. I saw my people they were smiling not grieving, I saw our kids they were safe they were breathing. It felt nice can’t describe the feeling, saw their eyes not a tear they were clear and gleaming. It was steaming hot still we filled the spot, the sun melting pots dark dayz forgot. And no more talk of

war and of bombs to drop, under Allah’s Shade and Shield and fearing not. No more bleeding due scheming dogs on thrones, whom plot with foes to spread woes, the stench of rot. And that's how it’s supposed to be. I look around and all I see today is poverty and misery from systems ruling over me with blasphemy. Their tool kufur rule it’s a catastrophe when these dastardly thugs and punks they rapidly bunk from wars upon our shores but have the spunk to fight the poor; a tragedy they

front parade our guns but non would blast for me. Instead they blast at me our blood is cheap it seems, under-siege for the life we lead. So we dream and hope constantly that we won’t succumb like some become the ones who wait complacently for the Mahadi to come. No way no how that’s not for me believe we rise right here and now. And break our backs to bring it back. And pray and bow oh Allah save us now, we made a pact to pay them back. 75 Swords pledged to lay them flat its time to act. Dark Dayz made our shoulders broader, offer the sun the

moon no turning back. I told you we’re Soldiers! 

                                                                      It ain’t easy trying to write these rhymes; describe my life, in times immersed in hate for mine, can you relate? These Kaffir love to see us cry. I keep a straight face smile when the cops go by because they hate me. My name is enough for arrest. Its like a game to these Kaffir play with daily threats they know they can’t maintain, Taghut, right now they run it but these thugs don’t own the hood. The world is ours. You and I live and die for Deen, we share the same hopes, it seems we cope with the same foes and cling to the same rope, Mustaqeem. We walk the same path and we graft for the dream. You know, we trying but sometimes its hard. My generation inherited it charred and scarred and now we fighting. It’s a global attack. The prophet fought the Jahliyah but they bringing it back with jets and tanks. A battle for our hearts and minds, they wanna erase the sunnah and Kitab combined. We know it’s a faze, the promise, that was already made, Your last favour, delivered and appropriately named; now

defamed Ya Allah! They’re strangling your Deen, ya Rahim, ya Hakim, ya Ghaffar. I got sisters getting raped in Jail. The pearls of this world, curled into balls unveiled and defaced. Abdallah’s

getting maimed and slain and sent home to his mother in a plastic case. And she don’t even recognize his face and her next son’s already taken up his place. Our leaders are a disgrace, that’s why we working hard everyday for the State. And make no mistake, we made a covenant, that ain’t gonna break, to make this deen the most dominant for

Allah’s sake.

Just the other day tanks rolled in smashing everything from the School-yard to the building. Gassing my hometown as they downed their shells on crowds to pound, thrashing. Bombs mashing drown

the sounds. We cry why another grave (man)? Another round another blaze (man)? Bullets sprayanother prey, another brave man, made a pact so it’s on we stand our ground. Gotta act grab a stone cause the drone’s just a throw away (man) hound gotta pay (man). Save my fam and my own (man), stashing just a rock in my hand sling shot black hawk down crashing. What now? See me turning and dashing. Vowed somehow to liberate so we clashing with a passion, learning to ration, my mate got a bashing so I’m lashing with no Kalashnikov brov. Olive branch and a white dove: get stuffed!Got no love for fascist and ruling factions spurning my people’s right of return. Dawn raid sirens flashing and Gaza is burning (gov) yearning for action. Churning Shaheeds earning their patch and mansions. See even in Eid we bleed, whilst you eat them sweets. And hit the streets so you clubs to beats and move your feet puffin on hash and weed, whilst we’re getting beats as they club our knees, when we hit the streets to protect our peeps. Trust it’s all trauma, they bust and keep blasting but like a fashion It’s never lasting, we got diplomas for raw guts. And that’s the life we lead its pure drama you must have caught a glimpse on Panorama.

                                                                      Call yourselves gangsters emulating hoods and thugs and toting them guns and snorting them drugs. Well integrated, now you live in the pubs, twist up your hip and lip with sisters at them late nightclubs, acting like misfits, rub in public on the red night bus. And not a thought though we fight daily, you know us, the Gaza youth of Islam, maybe too grown up. The Deen is different in the West, I guess its just too tough? We don’t confess to know your problems but it don’t sound much (you jokers). In no position to be dosing they’re killing us while we’re wishing for an intermission. Unhealthy living cause the foundations give in eventually we all expect to see our bedrooms fall in to our kitchens. Now Baba’s (father) missing and its been

two days having visions of rigormortis. He taught us that when they fought us to expect the worst. We curse the governments for slacking on their covenants, for sending regards instead of their armies. Now the lack of response is driving us barmy. How does Egypt respond? The border guards bar me. Ring the alarm, the situation’s lacking Islam. They build a wall to fence us in like Animal Farm. We vow to give up nothing though they’re roughing us up. Can’t get to school in case they shoot at the bus. A pistol whipping if your caught nipping out after class and that’s a blessing see the tanks roll in bringing much death in to the lesson, you bet it’s depressing. We’re pressing day by day to guard the Masjid yakhi we live this way. We have to dodge their Apaches on Monday, sneak Mama past the checkpoint Tuesday, no Baba cause they shot him Wednesday much harder now to find food Thursday, wahlahi if I had it my way, we’d all be living in Khilafah Friday, Insha'Allah. Welcome to the Geezer Strip. Some call it the Gaza but we flipped the script. I

heard you got it dope but you’re smoking it. We trying to get to school without the pistol-whip, you get me! Welcome to Al-Aqsa’s home we carrying the light but in the dark we roam. Sons of Islam but under whom we’re grown? 1.5 billion why we home alone? Welcome to the Gezzer Strip. You watch it on the news while we’re feeling it. They’re trying to take Al-Aqsa we protecting it. You call yourselves gangster's but you don’t know $&!+

Lyrics

Contest

Giza Strp

Resistance (Skit)

It's on Us

Apologies

Just within the Law (skit)

Scared of Me

Blakstonee

Heroes (Part 2)

Yeah U R

Just (Another Day in Paradise)

Place 2 B

Taking Over

Heroes (Part 1)

Blakstones Music is a sound born out of provocation due the unprecedented suffering of our people (be it in Iraq, Palestine, Lebanon, Afghanistan, Chechnya, Kosovo, Bosnia, Darfur, Gujarat, Kashmir, Angola, Rawanda etc) as well as the continuous subjugation of the impoverished of this earth at the hands of capitalism due to western foreign policy and eastern home-grown treachery.

               Simply speaking folks we are sick and tired of governments and so called politicians getting away with murder in all its guises and hence we speak out through our music. If we as a collective can galvanise generation X, if we can make them aware of the atrocities committed in their name, if we can remind them of the hardships that others endure, if we can politicise and inspire them into direct action accountability of government and self, if we can educate and entertain at the same time, if we can peddle knowledge instead of death, if we can murder ignorance and apathy instead of each other, if we can glorify the truth instead of falsehood, if we can rep those without a voice and stand up against injustice and oppression, then we have made a difference, then the collective becomes a movement and a movement is a vehicle for change.

 

Quote (http://www.myspace.com/blakstonemusic)

 

Song— Gaza Strip

Song— Close 2 me

Song— Apologies

*** For the men come soldiers. For the people on the streets when they weep with their peeps coffin deep on their shoulders. And for the young’un with the rock come boulders. For the feeble and the weak and the older. Soon come - hold tight to the rope cus. Don’t let' em get our own come between us. And for my sisters in the struggle stay bold cause it’s on us – it’s on us – it’s on us. 

                                                                       These are dark days and some ain’t even trying to shine, they’re taking what’s mine and say I should be grateful and kind. You must be mad Monsieur Blair, you need to stay of that wacky-backy you blagger, we don’t fear that rubbish you chatting. Sheer attacking me, got me stacked up all against myself. Clever, never saw that one coming Shaytan works in stealth. Ever figure that when my enemy came for my health they’d send my ownto murder me for slight increase in wealth. You’re just some wanabe bollywood star playing a Czar, tipsy on whisky at the bar that’s you repertoire. Walahi criminals yakh, they want me begging in the gutter, they’re smothering gunk on every syllable I utter. They Call me a Nutter. (shut up?) I swear bro they’re butters and pull down the shutters. Cutters are bare sharp to stab us. These so-called “brothers” their lovers and their wives alike painting the black with the colors' blue, red and white. Its like “Jump” and they don’t even ask how high they’re just leaping it might as well be for the sky. Oh me oh my lions and tigers and yellow brick roads, may Allah provide us or hide us from traitors and foes who stand in our rows making Salat to Allah, then its back to the bar to make plans like the Kuffar. The design? To divide us, blind the strong and weaken up the engine, no more vorsprung durch technik. They let them speak but I can’t be forthright. I’m banned while Imams go invite the Fourth Reich. Either you with us or you fear creation, made this Nation lead us in our congregation? Amazing! How they sold their souls to every John Gody and still bold as gold they quote one body. Lies, your alibis will feel the flame, fact. A pact made by criminals, lets name the game its all the same to those who’ve usurped the roles of speaking out on foes with their fiendish goals. The bahtil comes and goes but the truth remains and underpins the facts of the matter. Shame on those who claim to lead, whilst hiding truth. The Sunnah may be old but it moulds the

youth. 

                                       Everyday its like the same all that change its the number, they shooting at close range all that remains is buried under. You see the lightning but now you hearing the thunder, forcing the people to ponder but the many times their rulers blundered, Our days are looking numbered, how many lives have been wrecked? How many people suffer? So what you expect my brothers gotta play tougher. You think the Middle East is sweet? Why there not enough food 4 them to eat. Your troops are in our streets trying to implement laws, of course we

gonna die for the cause against illegal wars, with the force to unify the lands Presidents have got so much blood dripping from their hands. I ain’t a moderate but I ain’t an extremist, its the equilibrium you dont like, cause that’s what the deen is. You must be blind if you don’t see what’s going on, it’s ideological invasion UK to Lebanon. 

I see these cats in the Masjid wired and strapped to get believers arrested stabbing our backs with a

knife hand-made by MI5. Infact its blade forged from hate in blood pacts with rats. New York New

York wolves cry in sheep clothing. Jenin our scars our wide open - hoping truth wakes these fakes

when God’s words are spoken, but these fakes they take God’s words as token gestures. And wash

their bloody hands with soap and plug their mikes in government amps promoting lectures .To

integrate the false with truth a mouthpiece for the Beasts our Prophet (SAW) fought with proof. And

still they keep scoping corrupting our youth. In elections push voting your soul in a booth, that’s red

with blood, please do me favour, when Conservative pigs and New Labor enslave us. And Respect

and Lib-Dems are carrots to tame us, for lame ducks with no self respect and aimless. Baghdad’s

ransacked now who the hell’s gona save us. Killed our moms our dads brothers sisters and

neighbors. Now they sit back, laugh and say they made a mistake when our children are sodomised

in Abu Ghraib. And still you wanna politically participate in nations that breed nothing but greed and

hate. Snakes that breed fakes that guide to hell’s gates, mosque pulpits built with secular brick and

slate. Lords and MPs, bate scholars, police, ISBs MCBs configurations of these stand shoulder to

shoulder feet to feet microphone in their holster warmly greet, believers with salams and outstretched arms then on the radio speak say our boys are British soldiers. And pray for them they do dua for these vultures that rape and pillage, plunder burn and torture, they lay for

them, turn us prey for them. I’d rather die I swear to God than betray like them.

Song— Its on us

Solution’s kind of simple. Dictators drain the land, lock up the forces, sell resources cheap and don’t expand. There’s really no confusion, its time to sack ‘em and the systems that they use and put Shariah back in hand. For instance take the Parliament of Turkey where they’ve gone and banned our sisters wearing that which bares the

symbol of Iman. President Ahmet Sezer, what’s with that Geezer man? Adultery legalized so he can play in Europe’s band? Greetings to you King Fahd, this one is just for you. My little, index, the ringer and middle finger too! What is your purpose? What is it exactly that you do? That makes you worthy of the title Britain gave to you? Custodian of the misery that you put us through. Meantime we dying whilst you live off oil we accrue. When we take back what’s ours you best decide to hide cause I cant guarantee that you’ll survive what Muslims pray to do to you! Then there’s Hosni Mubarak. Don’t even get me started on that chump chicken head. Needs a slap, Mubarak. 500 thousand army personnel for what Mubarak? Arrest and torture those who speak what you deplore Mubarak? You give no orders to release them what they for Mubarak? Over the border they implore but you ignore Mubarak. Obese, secret police, give Israel peace, Mubarak. You cease, pack up leave, oh and *!&*$* afkarak!! 

                                 You’re just some wanabe bollywood star playing a Czar, tipsy on whisky at the bar that’s you repertoire. I heard your seminar running your mouth talking about running us out whilst you’re dressed in Laura Bush’s blouse. You’re just a coward a mouse who sold-out. Turned Pak to America’s spouse lets check your vows out:“Do you Pervez Musharraf solemnly swear to fight Islam to sell-out Kashmir and fighting ban? Do you promise to give your people a decking from us? To gas’em and mash’em and bomb them for us to screw the poorest? Do you promise to hassle and bang-up those who abhor us who dare to challenge the star spangled banner like in wana? Promise to adore us and follow orders Afghanistan abandon and weaken your borders and make them porous for western standards, values secular branded, that ensure us a nation of enslaved Asians that support us? Do you promise to keep your country in shambles plus dismantle your nuclear

powers and chuck in Dr AQ Khan as a bonus for us do you promise huh do you promise?

“I WISH TO ASSURE PRESIDENT BUSH OF OUR UNSTINTED CO-OPERATION.”(President Pervez Musharraf) Last but not least is America’s sprog full of the faeces more than a bog, President Karimov. Read your speeches playing it tough all in a huff talking bout heads and ripping them off all in puff. Reckon your hard playing the beast we reckon your dog, the female species howling and growling with muzzle off. (Whistle sound X 2) Here doggy doggy what’s the matter puppy? Want some more money to murder Muslims and torture families? Funny how a tyrant like you can

suddenly become hot property when you’re probably the most cowardly. And sickest of all the rulers that inflict us with poverty, you stick with HIV infected needles spread sickness and kick us. Boil us and slice us open then stitch us and take some pictures. Muslims bruised and broken a token to prove to Bush that your hard at work and worthy of that 160 million in US aid brokered when you monkeys & mongrels last spoken. I guess he got you open you pedigree chump on a leash Karimov you claim to believe but in a mosque you Mazeltov. (Bad dog)

Song— Traitor

Album - dark days