Lyrics

[Intro] What it is? Check it out, it's Briggs. Live from Alice Springs: the red centre. My cousin's been drivin' me around... I can't show his face though otherwise he will get the sack. Peace to Newsense for the tag. Fuckin' sick fuck. I hope you washed your hands, son. So, um, everyone smashed it, so I guess it's my turn. Check it out [Verse] Live from the N.T Red centre is the place I'll tag an MC Newsense repped for the bodily functions I'm thinkin' I'll kick it with the fuckin' bumpkin But never second guess the country They got rednecks, twenty-twos in the front seat Missin' their front teeth, antenna like ten feet Acca dacca in the six stacker, trust me Fuck a rap, I don't even like verses And fuck a cypher, I don't even like circles Fuck a show, fuck rehearsals And I fuck this beat 'til it's blue, black and purple [?] the legend now, it's authentic Bias B, son, representin' Lucky number seven, my time is up So I'ma kick this back to the original [?], what up, Hunt? [Outro] Hunter, SBX, I'm taggin' you in, son. You're number eight. Sendin' this joint back to the west. So, um, just go get 'em, son. [?] Shout out to the Golden Era fam: Hilltop Hoods, Funkoars, Vents One. You know what the deal is. This is Briggs, signing off from the desert, son