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)

Rappers We Crush

Wake up fronting like I ain’t hung over.
Read the paper, discover that the Germans have annexed Grover,
Cookie, Kermie, Piggie and all the rest.
There ain’t a single domestically controlled Muppet left.
Is it a plot? Some kind of conspiracy? My coffee is cold.
There is a bitter taste to my cinnamon roll.
I venture forth into the bright American day.
My neighbor Mister Hess says “Wie gehts?” and waves, I hurry away.
Get in my Chrysler (whew), oh, the dismay!
Someone’s replaced all of my Backstreet Boys with Kraftwerk tapes.
All right, I’m freaked out, I hope it’s a joke.
I hear the ominous industrial beat of a two-stroke
engine — the Benz on my left? The Bug on my right?
Yoiks! A fleet of six Trabants encroaching behind!
At the wheel of the lead Trabi, a visage of fear!
Red and yellow eyes, black gloves gripping the steer!
And then it dawns upon me, what chance have I got?
It’s KOMPRESSOR, and he’s chosen, for crushing, MC Frontalot!

RAPPERS WE CRUSH, FINGERS TO DUST
KOMPRESSOR DIGEST VOCALS AND SPIT OUT MUSH
YOU TRY FRONT WITH RHYMES
STOLEN FROM THE JACKSON FIVE
ERASE YOUR TAPES AT NIGHT
YOU COWER FROM KOMPRESSOR MIGHT


But I don’t wanna be crushed! Buried in fear! Left for tot!
Synthesizer might, tearing the rhymes right out of my throat!
Leave my car at the light and run. I make for the park,
pursued by steel-toed jack-boots throwing sparks
as they march. And I can hear the gnashing of the yellow teeth:
DU KANNST NICHT HIDE, RAPPER GEEK.
I’m dodging German Shepherds playing frisbee with hippies,
making hair-pin turns like horror movie heroines and slipping.
Back on my feet, his breath on my neck:
it smells of baked infants and fried cheese (SCHLECHT!!).
Run! You’re sure to suffer crushing if you sit still.
Hop the chain-link to the abandoned Wienerschnitzel.
What did I do to deserve this? What was my crime?
Was it because I sampled Die Toten Hosen that one time?
And I’m reviewing my life cowered under a grease trap,
the boot-slap stepping ever closer with its click-clack.
Now he’s here... now he’s crouching down...
jaws creak open, ants start pouring out.
And just as my flesh is about to get devoured,
I wake up screaming, wrapped in the sour
sweat-stained sheets. It takes a minute to get up,
stumble to the table, read the paper, clear my head up.
Still hurts, what’d I drink all that Goldschläger for?
Business section: EM.TV bought Jim Henson Corp.

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