Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Plastic bag grease on the backseat
Steam from the stacks in the cold air
Four kids
Same key to the same gate
Same tired sneakers on the subway stairs
Queens storefront
Metal gate rattling
Name on the glass that they can't pronounce
Dad counting coins at the cracked table
"We feed a city or we lose this house"
[Chorus]
This is from nothing in Manhattan (hey!)
From the dough on our hands to the taxicabs passing
From Queens all night to the bridges we’re mapping
We got pita in the trunk
Got a promise in the van
For our father
For our father
We deliver what he started
Through the island that ignored him
From nothing in Manhattan
For our father
For our father
[Verse 2]
Oven light burns like a sunrise
We don’t sleep
We just rotate shifts
Nora runs routes on the east side
Sal’s double-parked yelling "make it quick" (make it quick)
Dima on the phone
Doing late math
Tariq scribbling dreams on the brown bags
Dad’s voice riding shotgun in all caps
"Keep it hot
Keep it honest
Bring it all back"
[Chorus]
This is from nothing in Manhattan (oh!)
From the dough on our hands to the taxicabs passing
From Queens all night to the bridges we’re mapping
We got pita in the trunk
Got a promise in the van
For our father
For our father
We deliver what he started
Through the island that ignored him
From nothing in Manhattan
For our father
For our father
[Bridge]
Rain on the roof at the red light
Four shadows laughing in the rearview glass
He had one recipe
One lifetime
We got four routes
One name on the map (one name, one map)
If the city ever says we don’t matter
Count the doors that we touch before dawn
Every stack
Every sack
Every ladder
Is a prayer that we built into a job
[Chorus]
This is from nothing in Manhattan (hey!)
From the dough on our hands to the taxicabs passing
From Queens all night to the bridges we’re mapping
We got pita in the trunk
Got a promise in the van
For our father
For our father
We deliver what he started
Through the island that ignored him
From nothing in Manhattan
For our father
For our father
Style
swaggering boom-bap groove under gritty male vocalsdusty drums and chopped oud riffs driving the pocket. verses tight and cinematicbass warm and roundwith subtle arabic percussion flickers in the back. hook opens wide with stacked gang vocals on key phrasesclaps and call-and-response ad-libs. bridge strips to voiceoudand low-end thumpthen final chorus hits hardest with extra harmonies and a tape-stop ending.theme
Prompt
NYC theme anthem with Middle Eastern flair. Oud and boom bap drums. Four siblings pick up pita in Queens, deliver overnight through Manhattan. Built from nothing, for our father.
Credits
Prompt byHeavyPilot605
GeneratedFeb 27, 2026
ModelAria v5
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