“Dead in the middle of little Italy, little did we know that we riddled two middlemen who didn’t do diddly.”
— Big Punisher, “Twinz” (Capital Punishment, 1998)
I never thought I would compare hip-hop’s lyricism with Qur’anic recitation. Back in the day, I fashioned myself into a hip-hop artist. Now, as a Muslim, I am working on becoming a qari (reciter) of Qur’an. The casual Muslim reader might find this juxtaposition strange due to the strong opinion of some Muslim scholars that music is haram (forbidden, prohibited). These scholars remind us that the best speech is Allah’s Qur’an, from which music distracts us. After all, the remembrance of Allah should be recalled more automatically from the subconscious than rap lyrics. Ibn Al-Qayyim likens music to the “Qur’an of Satan.” He says that Satan uses music to “trap the hearts of those who follow falsehood. He makes [music] appear attractive to [us] cunningly and deceptively, and he casts false doubts so that people regard it as something good. As a result, people accept [Shaytan’s] inspiration and desert the Qur’an because of it. Interestingly, hip-hop’s detractors also agree with this Islamic scholar’s assertion. For example, Columbia linguistics scholar John H. McWhorter argues that hip-hop music keeps Black youth from achieving their potential. He said that hip-hop or “rap” music reinforces “stereotypes that long hindered blacks, and by teaching young blacks that a thuggish adversarial stance is the properly ‘authentic’ response to a presumptively racist society, rap retards black success.” He does argue that “not all hip-hop” is belligerent or profane,” but the “nastiest” examples get the most exposure.
However, my younger self (and sometimes current self) reveled in the language’s intricacies and rhymes. The reverence I had for these lyrics was second to none. I felt I couldn’t just listen to it and be satisfied; I had to participate in it. So, like most burgeoning rappers, I became a student of the craft. Between the 10th through 12th grades of high school, headphones and a CD Discman were part of my everyday apparel. From Jay-Z to Nas, and everyone in between, hip-hop was my obsession. I excelled at memorizing my favorite rappers’ lyrics. By emulation, I felt I inherited their talent. I am sure other hip-hop enthusiasts felt similarly. As other MC’s know, memorization is a process. I would play songs over and over and over again. My goal was to catch every word, while enjoying the song. After a while, I would repeat what I memorized, the music blasting from my Discman. Eventually, I could recite the whole song in sync with the music. As I became more proficient, I would match the rapper’s intonation, energy, and pacing, emulating their breathing patterns. Eventually, I lowered the volume, and I would recite the rhyme until I mastered the rap without the music. I learned the art of lyricism and I gained a deeper appreciation of my favorite artists’ writing techniques. I became a formidable MC in my own right because I conveyed to my audience the powerful poeticism of hip-hop and the eloquence of language. I never understood those who failed to see hip-hop’s lyricism through that lens. Little did I know that Allah would use the Islamic references I would hear in music to plant seeds of interest about the religion in me.
“I’m at jumu’ah, trying to follow the sunnah. Making salat trying to keep my deen in the dunya, In sha Allah”
— Black Spade, “Belly Full”
I came across this song randomly a year before I became Muslim, and it marked a huge turning point in my life. I studied these lyrics, memorized them, and repeated them, never knowing what they meant. I loved how the rhyme sounded and I had no idea that the words were Arabic. Only later, after converting, did I realize the words’ relationship to Islam. The Qur’an, Islam’s holy book, is written in Arabic and its influence is felt throughout the non-Arabic speaking Muslim world. As such, Muslims routinely utter Arabic words in conversation, as is the case with the lyrics above. After I became a Muslim, I learned that jumu’ah meant Friday prayer, sunnah referred to the way of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), and salat referenced the five daily prayers. Deen and dunya were of particular interest to me because they referred to opposing ideas: deen being the religious path one traverses in our earthly life, the dunya symbolizing the life we should denounce, as it prevents the remembrance of Allah.
I felt that these lyrics were Allah’s special way of leading me to Him.
I took my Shahada in June of 2019 and I haven’t looked back.
During my first Ramadan as a Muslim, Qur’anic recitation eclipsed the reverence that I had for hip-hop. While hip-hop sensitized me to the beauty of rhyme and rhythm, I was unprepared for the impact the Qur’anic verses had on me. Standing in salat (congregational prayer) and listening to the recitation was beyond anything I had ever experienced. The Qur’anic Arabic was the highest speech I ever heard. The language indicated how miraculous the Qur’an is, the true speech of Allah. Music, the sounds of the dunya, distracted me from my deen. Allah beckoned me to make a choice: the Qur’an and my religion, or music and Hellfire. Keeping my deen in the dunya ultimately means replacing my love for music with love for Allah and the Qur’an.
“Whoever gives up something for the sake of Allah, Allah will substitute him with something better.” (Sheikh Ibn ‘Uthaimeen’s Tafsir of Surah Al-Kahf pg. 66) The most difficult thing about giving up listening to music is the idea of giving up being a rapper. I reveled in the process of putting words together through multi-syllabic mastery and clever rhyme schemes. Figuring out how to manipulate “Martha’s Vineyard” to rhyme with “Harvard chemist” was among the greatest challenges. I couldn’t imagine what could be better than that. Amidst memorizing the verses of the Qur’an, I realized that Allah was calling me to His remembrance, and I didn’t have to sacrifice the means through which I connected to music at all. I still have my headphones. I have access to all the best reciters of the Qur’an through my Qur’an app. When I listen to how they recite and attempt to emulate their adeptness of articulation, I realize how much more evolved Allah’s speech is in comparison to poetry. In fact, the Qur’an was revealed to challenge the Arabic poetry of its time, which is still considered to be among the most eloquent of the exceptional languages in the world today. The rules of beautification, or tajweed, require the language of Allah be spoken with more precision than the best rhyme scheme of any MC out there.
I realized that even though being a rapper is off the table, Allah has granted me the ability and opportunity to recite His Words, all 6,236 verses of them.
I realized that even though being a rapper is off the table, Allah has granted me the ability and opportunity to recite His Words, all 6,236 verses of them. As a musician, I would never be able to write 6,236 verses in a lifetime. However, the relationship you’re meant to establish with the Holy Book of Allah is meant to be active, not passive. With music, it’s much easier to have it playing in the background and enjoy it without paying attention to the content. Music’s goal is to entertain more than it is to educate and enrich. But the Qur’an is more than elegant background noise, much more. The Qur’an demands your full attention. Though there’s beauty in its recitation, more beautiful are the meanings that become fuller upon each listen.
Furthermore, striving to memorize the intricacies of Qur’anic tajweed brings the Qur’an closer to your heart. However, I find the task of memorizing and learning tajweed onerous and such feelings bother me. I should find Qur’anic memorization and recitation more enjoyable than learning hip hop, but I don’t. Memorizing the words and studying tajweed seems like a chore rather than a blessing. Just after embracing Islam, I eagerly studied Qur’an to master its recitation. I loved the idea that I was earning blessing upon blessing with my recitation. As the Prophet (PBUH) taught us: for every letter you recite of it, you receive the reward of 10 to even 700 good deeds. After some time, however, the difficulty of the task overwhelmed me.
A Muslim’s greatest blessing, especially reverting to the faith, is that by acknowledging Islam as the truth, one knows that Allah has granted you His greatest gift: His Guidance. So, I will keep striving to memorize and recite. In fact, I have already replaced my favorite MC’s with my favorite qaris: Aziz Alili, Mahmoud Khalil Al Hussary, Noreen Muhammad Siddique.
“As for the poets, only those who are lost in error follow them. Are you not aware that they roam confusedly through all valleys, and that they say what they do not do? Excepted are those who believe, and do righteous deeds, and remember God often, and strive to be triumphant after they have been wronged.” (Qur’an, Surah 26: 224, 227.)
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