The Aussie sun, it's beatin' down,
Out here, you're either king or clown.
A warning rides on the wind's loud shout,
"Mate, f*ck around, and you'll find out."
'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly,
The rules are simple: live or die.
Play your games, go run your mouth,
But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out.
From the red dirt roads to the barroom fights,
There's no shadows here, just brutal lights.
The truth hits hard, no room for doubt,
"Mate, f*ck around, and you'll find out."
'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly,
The rules are simple: live or die.
Play your games, go run your mouth,
But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out.
There's a wisdom carved in scars you earn,
Every slip is a lesson, every bridge you burn.
The harder you push, the louder the shout,
"Don't f*ck around, mate, or you'll find out."
Under starlit skies, the echoes cry,
For every fool who dared to try.
The bush remembers, it don't flout,
The rule: "F*ck around, and you'll find out."
"Out here, respect ain't given.
It's earned with blood, sweat, and decisions.
Cross the line, you'll see what I'm about.
Go ahead-f*ck around, and find out."
The wild don't bend; it stands its ground,
No second chances, no safe bounds.
You play your cards, you roll your clout,
But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out.
'Cause the bush don't care if you're tough or sly,
The rules are simple: live or die.
Play your games, go run your mouth,
But you'll f*ck around, and you'll find out.