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All Hands on Deck (Explicit) - Dominic Fike
Lyrics by：Dominic Fike
Composed by：Sam Homaee/Dominic Fike
Produced by：Sam Homaee
Mmm
Mmm
Mm
I want your germs
Sick is a word
Death is a state of mind
Like time
But I'm not I'm real
At least I think
Dare I say
You know cash is king out west
And mattresses open up as often as bugs land on bums
Hands on
All hands on deck
We all dyin' out here
But I smile out here in the face of death
Funny how we all stuck but you can't connect
And everybody looks at you and breaks their neck
And you can't get rest
You can't even get arrested 'cause we all doin' it
Hawk tuah get famous
Hop to it get sober
Now do it now do it ************
Man you got a son
You gotta get to it fast man
You gotta run
You gotta come up with sum'
You better come up with sum'
Some type of fund some type of trust
But don't nobody trust nobody so what the ****
So try your hardest you stale and starvin'
Dyin' artist
You mailman hotel front desk workin' that same job
Hopin' that same job pays off but it don't make no difference
So make your livin' make your missus happy
Go down on her don't **** around on her
I did you see how that worked
Can I get a luya?
Breathing
I wanna help with your breathing
I wanna inhabit your safe zone
Ah leaving
I think we're better off leaving
I wanna travel ya'
Ooh
Ooh
Oh
Ooh
