Rappers We CRUSH

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's 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!

Somebody'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?

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 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! Burried 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

(YOU CANNOT 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'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 bootslap 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 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 goldschlager for?

Business section: EM.TV bought Jim Henson Corp.

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