All Of Front’s Lyrics


A Little Bit Broad

A Very Unlikely Occurrence

Better At Rapping

Bizarro Genius Baby

Black Box



Captains Of Industry

Charisma Potion

Charity Case

Chisel Down

Colonel, Panic!

Crime Spree

Critical Hit

Devil In The Attic


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

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


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



Small Data

Sockington 1M Theme

Socks On


Special Delivery

Speed Queen

Spoiler Alert

Start Over

Stoop Sale


The Council Of Loathing

This Old Man

Tongue-Clucking Grammarian

TP Factory Tour

Twenty-Six Hundred

Two Dreamers

Victorian Space Prostitute



Which MC Was That?

Yellow Lasers

You Got Asperger's

Your Friend Wil

Zero Day


Guest Verses

Borken Telephone (by Rock, Paper, Cynic)

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)

Goth Girls

Ummmm, hello! I was wondering: how goth is my frock?
I got a thing for horror movies and mope rock
but I can’t shock my hair up (I ran out of stock).
And just like that, Frontalot ran out of talk.
It was tragic, unheard of, never seen, me:
out of rhymes when they usually come indefatigably.
But me here talk good? No, bad talk do!
Like my tongue got encrypted right before I lost root.
Like my small talk got box-rox0red on a prior boot.
It’s moot; she only dates guys in chokes and Docs,
not brutes lacking eyeliner like I lack.
But look, I’ll put a little on, plus lip shellac,
just to stand next to that and dream about love.
Of necessity, that has always had to be enough
‘cause I can’t talk to goth girls. I just stare and stammer:
my name is MC Frimmer Frammer.
And damn her if she giggles. Damn her double if she laughs.
Goth girls like it when you double-damn it twice fast.

Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that go
to see the nerdcore rapper with the geeked out flow.
At the show you can see the black lace on parade.
I met a hundred dozen of ‘em but I ain’t got laid.

Got shunned by her at the Rocky Horror premiere.
She steered clear of the nerd crowd but I heard loud in my ear
the disdain that she held for my type:
“always geeking on the computron.” I get hype
on the stage! She might notice me then and observe
that I’m “ironically hip in some flip universe.”
And her purse in patent leather held in fishnet glove
could then contain MP3 player with the Front filled up.
Her name is Nyteshaed, yo don’t call her cherry tomato.
She looks like Paisley Tinkle but poisonous like Topato.
She says her hair got attacked ‘cause it’s black and it’s blue.
She’s got a Johnny the Homicidal Maniac tattoo.
Legs all deep in the boots, boots all up on the heels —
yes, the kind to make a certain type of fetishist squeal.
The ordeal I endure: this close to her splendor
yet besieged by my shyness; try this: I surrender!
I’ll render my intentions in the usual way
(home alone, Suicide Girls up on the cathode ray).

IRL, my woman tells me that I shouldn’t be coveting.
I tell her “Yo, you better get in a coven then.”
It’s like eek, I get to sleep on the couch for a week,
all watching old Elvira videos on TV.
Yeah, hee hee hee, laugh it up. You don’t live like I do:
at the mercy of any sister with wrist scars and black eye goo.
I tried to get into some cheerleaders and failed
(Banana Repugnant and tanned, so bland and so stale).
I avail myself of the local cafe, light a clove up,
thumb through Camus (in French, which I can’t read, but so what).
I think that goth could flower in nerdcore’s embrace.
I converted Edward Gorey’s lettering into a typeface,
befriended vampires on LJ and MySpace,
even put that spooky echo filter on the bass.
But I can’t talk to goth girls. I just stare and stammer:
my name is MC Frimmer Frammer.
And damn her if she giggles. Damn her double if she laughs.
Goth girls like it when you double-damn it twice fast.

Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that got
their souls stuck somewhere between the kettle and pot.
Frontalot been enamored of them since I was young
I met a hundred dozen of ‘em, never ever humped one.

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