Music & Me - Where Music Peaked For Me
I am gonna try my best to cover the songs that I personally believe are going on a DHH Hall Of Fame for being a masterpiece in no order.
Out of all the music I’ve been listening to, one song stands out above the rest —
Astaghfirullah by MC Stan.
No other song comes close to it in terms of its emotional depth and raw honesty. In this track, MC Stan showcases his skill as a poet, owning up to his sins. The repeated phrase “Astaghfirullah” which means “God, forgive me” in Arabic, reveals his internal struggle. He openly admits to his guilt how he’s distanced himself from his faith to the point where he is not welcome in the mosque (also society).
He also reflects on the pain he has caused his mother, by being an addict, a gang member and acknowledging the weight of his actions. In addition, the song touches on his battles with the public’s perception of him.
He is trolled for his behavior, and instead of shying away from it, he embraces it, even describing himself as a “low-class guy” or “Chapri,” a term that reflects his roots in the streets. The track explores how he feels he’s become entangled with negative influences, even admitting to befriending Satan at times.
In essence, Astaghfirullah is not just a song about fame and its consequences; it’s a raw confession of regret, guilt, and the ongoing quest for redemption. MC Stan doesn’t shy away from his flaws, making this track not just a reflection of his reality, but a universal message about self-awareness, sin, and the hope for forgiveness.
You Got This by Fotty Seven
Fotty Seven brings an incredibly motivational track with “You Got This.” This song is a powerful reminder to believe in yourself and to understand that your aspirations are far greater than any obstacles in your path. It’s an anthem for self-love and the importance of pushing through tough times. With the repeated affirmation, “Ab tujhe girne nahi dunga, mai tujhe firse milunga,” meaning “Now I will not let you fall, I will meet you again”.
Jab aasman me honge judge sahab saamne
Kehna khud ko maine jhonk diya tha poora
Kehna rang laal tha mere har aansun ka
Kehna maashuka ki maa ne jab kaam pucha
Badi khamoshi se tha seene me ek kaanch toota
Kehna bas karna tha mujhe papa ka naam uncha
Kehna iske alaava aaya ni khayal dooja
Aur bhi puchna ke karmo ke hisaab se banate ho kismat
Toh main itna kharab hun kya?
In these lines, Fotty Seven is envisioning a moment of final judgment where he will reflect on his life and efforts. He wants to be able to say that he gave everything he had, endured immense pain, and was driven by a noble purpose (making his father/family proud). He then directly questions the fairness of fate, asking if his struggles and intentions should lead to a negative judgment which also has a deeper meaning; you know your intentions and work better than God who is judging you.
La Hasil by Sunny Khan Durrani
The name of the song means “futile” or “unachieved” in Urdu, reflects the core message of the song. A song that’s very difficult to listen to; Sunny expresses a sense of emotional emptiness, leaving him with nothing but memories and unfulfilled desires. The lyrics portray a sense of longing, nostalgia, and the realization that despite the intense emotional investment, the desired connection or outcome has not been attained.
“Kaash abu aaj bhi hote hamare sath me,
Kon lagae gallay baad eid ki namaaz ke.”
This line beautifully expresses the longing for the warmth and security of his father’s presence, especially after a significant, joyous occasion like Eid. It symbolizes the loss of cherished family bonds, especially the comforting embrace of a father, and the void left in the Sunny’s life after his absence. Sunny talks about many lost dreams, regrets, and the yearning for simpler, yet better times.
Kaha Tak by KR$NA
KR$NA’s “Kaha Tak” from the “Time Will Tell EP” is a reflective track where he contemplates his journey, struggles, and aspirations. The lyrics showcase his lyrical prowess and his determination to keep pushing forward despite the obstacles.
Aaya main kahan se kahan tak
Manzil hai meri par door
Aaya main kahan se kahan tak
Rukna na mujhe manzoor
In “Kaha Tak,” KR$NA reflects on his journey and the distance he has traveled, as in the hook where is saying he has came a long way, yet the final destination is very far away and he is not planning to stop.
He offers a glimpse into his life struggles, specially with people once you start growing you meet a lot of them but they are not your friends, suggesting a sense of isolation despite his progress. Which I can closely relate to; I am far away from home and yet I am far away from where I wanna be.
KR$NA also hints at a tough upbringing (“Pala main wo jagah jahan sab covid se pehle the masked up” - I grew up in a place where everyone was masked up even before Covid) as he grew up in bad part of London and a change in his demeanor due to his experiences
Hota tha heart of gold, ab heart hai cold
Just like the shoulders I used to get
I used to have a heart of gold, now my heart is cold. Just like the shoulders I used to get.
Krsna peaked here:
Dekhe the maine, woh days the gray
Raatein kaali, on that paperchase
Chodein ni maine ye paper-planes
Sapno ke bane yahan pay-per plans
Karta raha hustle, main karta raha grind
Soch ke aata hai sabhi ka time
Bolta thaa god “Just give me a sign”
He made me a dollar, out of a dime
Only right, it’s only right (Right)
I stand my ground and I fight (Fight)
Trusting that days get bright, after the loneliest nights
Translation:
I’ve seen those days — the ones painted gray,
Dark nights passed, chasing money every day.
Never let go of these paper planes,
Dreams turned into plans — even if they came with pain.
Kept hustling, kept grinding non-stop,
Believing that everyone’s time comes to the top.
Used to pray to God, “Just give me a sign,”
He turned my dime into a dollar — that blessing was mine.
It’s only right, yeah it had to be,
I stand my ground, fight back endlessly.
Holding on to hope that the days get bright,
Even after surviving the loneliest nights.
At its core, the message is: “I’ve been through the worst, I never stopped believing, and now I’m making it — slowly, but surely.”
The song overall conveys a sense of perseverance and a determined focus on his goals despite the challenges and the long road ahead.
Perfect — that makes even more sense now. The word “Waapsi” (meaning return or comeback) ties directly into the emotional weight and narrative of the track. Here’s the final write-up, tuned with the correct song title and artist, and in the same voice as your blog:
Waapsi by AFKAP
AFKAP returns after years of silence with Waapsi, a raw and meditative freestyle that isn’t just about music — it’s about memory, trauma, and trying to make peace with both. The word “waapsi” means return, but this doesn’t feel like a victory lap. It’s quiet, messy, unfiltered — the kind of return that hurts. A song that will always stay rent free in my head. This is a true masterpiece.
From the start, You hear the weight in AFKAP’s voice, the exhaustion behind lines like “Houseparty, interviews mai jawab / Deta mat puch bey.” He doesn’t want the spotlight; he just wants space. He isn’t trying to please — he’s drawing boundaries.
There’s longing in the song — for family, for time, for quiet:
“Ghar pe bitana chahata waqt kuch ab / Bete ki waapsi se kaise hote sab khush dekh”
(“I just want to spend some time at home / Everyone’s happy seeing the son return.”)
But even in that joy, there’s discomfort — as if he doesn’t know how to exist in that happiness anymore. The lyrics weave through memories and mundanity and past that wasn’t flashy:
“Safed baniyan pe peeli daal ke daag hai / Collar pe abhi powder aur chatai pe hai thaal”
(“Yellow daal stains on a white inner t-shirt / Powder on the collar to make it look white and clean, a plate on the mat signifying lack of money.”)
It’s poetic, but not romantic. These aren’t metaphors — they’re moments from a home he’s still figuring out how to belong to.
Midway, AFKAP shifts into a more assertive voice. He questions the industry, clout culture, and fake friends.
“Tu bolta jisko flex hai usko west mein bolte cap / Aur yahan pe bolte chup hoja aur side mei jaake baith”
(“What you call flex, they call cap (lies) in the West / And here they just tell you to shut up and sit down.”)
But behind the critique is a deeper insecurity — an artist trying to find his place without compromising who he is.
Toward the end, the song hits its most vulnerable stretch:
“Yeh chaar saal khoye inki yaad bhi nahi hai / Hua itna isolate koi darwaze pe nahi hai”
(“These four years were lost, no one even remembers / I got so isolated, no one even knocks on my door.”)
There’s something quietly devastating about that. No drama, no screaming — just a man talking to himself, unsure if anyone’s still listening.
He closes with the line:
“Kasam se ye khoi phase nahi hai boss / Na jaane is junoon ne kabse sane rakha boss”
(“I swear this isn’t just a lost phase, boss / I don’t even know how long this obsession has kept me sane.”)
Waapsi isn’t a comeback song — it’s a survival song. A record of someone still mid-struggle, mid-healing. It doesn’t ask for sympathy or he doesn’t even sound like he is complaining. Just recognition.