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Flakes
by Frank Zappa

Flakes, flakes!
Flakes, flakes!
They don't do no good
They never be workin' when they oughta should
They waste your time
They're wastin' mine
California's got the most of them
Boy, they got a host of them

Swear to god they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear to god they got the most
At every business on the coast
They got the flakes

Flakes, flakes!

They can't fix yer brakes
You ask 'em, "where's my motor? " "well, it was eaten by snakes"
You can stab 'n' shoot 'n' spit
But they won't be fixin' it
They're lyin' an' lazy
They can be drivin' you crazy

Swear to god they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear to god they got the most
At every business on the coast
Take it away, bob

I asked as nice as I could
If my job would
Somehow be finished by Friday
Well, the whole damn weekend came 'n' went, Frankie
Wanna buy some acid, Bob?
You know what, they didn't do nothin'
But they charged me double for Sunday

Now, you know, no matter what you do
They gonna cheat and rob you
And then they'll give you a bill that'll get your senses reelin'
And if you do not pay
They got computer collectors
That'll get you so crazy till your head'll go through the ceilin'
Yes it will!

One, two three four!

One, two, uh, four!

One, two, three, four!

One, two, three, four!

Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.,
Written by: FRANK ZAPPA

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