M.C. Frontalot - Rappers We Crush lyrics

[Verse 1: M.C. Frontalot] Well I wake up frontin' 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's 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 Alright, 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? Mein gott! A fleet of six trabants encroaching behind! At the wheel of the lead Trabi, a visage of fear! Red'n'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! [Hook: Kompressor] 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 [Verse 2: M.C. Frontalot] But I don't wanna be crushed! Buried in fear! Left for töt! Synthesizer might, tearing the rhymes right outta 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 h**nes and slipping Back on my feet, his breath on my neck It smells of baked infants and fried cheese [SCHLECHT!!] Run! you'll surely 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 when as 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, whu'd I drink all that goldschlager for? Business section: EM.TV bought Jim Henson Corp [Hook]