All Of Front’s Lyrics

80085

A Little Bit Broad

A Very Unlikely Occurrence

Better At Rapping

Bizarro Genius Baby

Black Box

Braggadocio

Canadia

Captains Of Industry

Charisma Potion

Charity Case

Chisel Down

Colonel, Panic!

Crime Spree

Critical Hit

Devil In The Attic

Disaster

Diseases of Yore

Fast Company (30 Sec. MBA)

Final Boss

First World Problem

Floating Bridge

Forbidden Planet

Freedom Feud

Fresh Dog

Front The Least

Front The Most

Gold Locks

Gonna Be Your Man

Good Old Clyde

Goth Girls

Hassle: the Dorkening

I Can See

I Hate Your Blog

I Heart Fags

I'll Form The Head

In Arrears

Indier Than Thou

Invasion Of The Not Quite Dead

It Is Pitch Dark

ITC Stranger

Jacquelyn Hyde

Just Once

Listen Close

Livin' At The Corner Of Dude & Catastrophe

Machine Of Death

Message No. 419

Mornings Come And Go

Mountain Kind

Much Chubbier

My Sister

Nerd Versus Jock

Nerdcore Hiphop

Nerdcore Rising

Nerdlife

Oh, The Hilarity

Origin Of Species

Penny Arcade Theme

Power User

Pr0n S0ng

Rappers We Crush

Rewind That Back

Rhyme of the Nibelung

Romantic Cheapskate (Song Fight version)

Romantic Cheapskate v.2.0

Scare Goat

Secrets From The Future

Shame of the Otaku

Shellfishcore

Shudders

Small Data

Sockington 1M Theme

Socks On

Solved

Special Delivery

Speed Queen

Spoiler Alert

Start Over

Stoop Sale

Synonyms

The Council Of Loathing

This Old Man

Tongue-Clucking Grammarian

TP Factory Tour

Twenty-Six Hundred

Two Dreamers

Victorian Space Prostitute

Wakjakaga

Wallflowers

Which MC Was That?

Yellow Lasers

You Got Asperger's

Your Friend Wil

Zero Day

 

Guest Verses

Borken Telephone (by Rock, Paper, Cynic)

Boyfriend Material (by Miss Eaves)

Challenge Your Audience (by Mikal kHill)

Epic Fail (by Ken Flagg)

I Like It (by Supercommuter)

I Need Your Help (by Doug Funnie)

Intervention (by Schaffer The Dark Lord)

Kabuto Party (by Kabuto The Python)

Look At Me (by Allie Goertz)

Mecha Mechanics (by Whoremoans)

Noggin User (by Wordburglar)

O.G. Original Gamer (by MC Lars)

Oneonta (by MC Lars)

Ping Pong (by Optimus Rhyme)

Plastic Submarine (by The Grammar Club)

Reset Button (by Random AKA Megaran)

Salieri (by Adam WarRock)

Soda Water (by Jess Klein)

Teenage Dirtbag (by Wheatus)

Wake Up (by Random AKA Megaran)

Livin' At The Corner Of Dude & Catastrophe

Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
wasting my time at the corner of dude and catastrophe.
Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
but I feel fine at the corner of dude and catastrophe.

Woke up by the pool again.
Must have played the fool again.
Wonder what them hooligans put on the grill that stinks
kind of like burnt fur and regurg’ed drinks
with an undertone of the acorn
and leather that’s laid on
thick like Liz Claiborne.
Step over with big trepidation,
lift up the top off the meat cooking station
to discover my homie Todd!
I said “Oh my God,
what grim façade
do you meet me with in my wakefulness?”
I had too many Stellas and they all was crisp;
must I rise up in the morning with my squirrel desisted
from the world? Insisted, as I did
this instant, that
him up in heaven again is premature?
If only reality would concur!
Poke him with the tongs. Dude won’t wake up.
Put him on the lawn; Ray’s about to cook a steak up
and this ain’t no kind of mausoleum.
Got to get the high degree on.
Todd’s onomatopoeia
got already all used up — I mean he sizzled —
ain’t nothing left but char, bone, and gristle.
My heart is fissile: I mean it could break
like crystal; he never learned to whistle. Don’t rake
his cadaver up, wassamadda with your mind?
He ain’t a lawn clipping. We been knuckleheads since old times.
Dig out the batting helmet and the bat
‘cause we’re all about to have a funeral, and that’s that.
We’ll do it after breakfast. We’ll do it up proper.
We’ll drop all his ashes out the Airwolf copter,
all singing up dirges, all spreading out blossoms,
and it’s gonna b-b-b-be frikkin’ awesome!

Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
wasting my time at the corner of dude and catastrophe.
Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
but I feel fine at the corner of dude and catastrophe.

Six bong rips later: we ain’t going to the helipad,
standin’ ‘round hella sad,
wonder where them Stellas at.
All these dudes ain’t huge on sentiment,
still they want to say a little something to the benefit
of layin’ Todd’s soul to rest.
I cold regressed, contemplated old regrets
and said, “Man why he even got to do a thing
like pass out on the Bar-B-King?”
I’m tryin’ to bring from like recesses in my mind
a word or two that wouldn’t prove unkind.
Aligned as he was with the less-than-angelic,
trafficking black tar smack & psychedelics
in that little-ass van of his, and drunk doing it,
knowing what the right thing to do was but eschewing it,
it’d seem pretty probable
flames are audible:
that’s the duty that Todd’ll pull,
not just in death, but in after-that,
like the bat out the h-e-double-vertical-slat
but inbound in the case of this rodent,
like when he got peeled-out on and ‘sploded,
or indeed when he got shanked in the joint —
hella causing me to wonder if there’s even a point
to our shepherdly tending of his life’s ending.
Bet he’s chilling at Friendly’s
and gonna be back in the neighborhood shortly,
discussing how awesome it is to be portly,
reporting the slant he just got on with Blister
(drank till his wrists hurt,
boned the ghost of your sister).
The dude’s a bucket kickster when he has to be
and this one wasn’t like a masterpiece
so yes we’re depressed but not drastically...
livin’ at the corner of dude and catastrophe.

Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
wasting my time at the corner of dude and catastrophe.
Where I’m livin’, it’s hard to say,
but I feel fine at the corner of dude and catastrophe.
I’ll just wait, waving goodbye until the next time.
I’ll just wait, waving goodbye until the next time.

Lyrics Copyright © 1999-2016 by MC Frontalot / Published by Nerdcore Fervor Conglomerated (ASCAP)