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 t'God they got the most

At every business on the coast

Swear t'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 t'God they got the most

At every business on the coast

Swear t'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 mandies, Bob?]

'N'they didn't do nothin'

But they charged me double for Sunday

You know, no matter what you do

They gonna cheat 'n' rob you

Then they'll send 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

Til your head'll go through th' ceilin'

Yes it will!



I'm a moron 'n' this is my wife

She's frosting a cake

With a paper knife

All what we got here's

American made

It's a little bit cheesey,

But it's nicely displayed

Well we don't get excited when it

Crumbles 'n' breaks

We just get on the phone

And call up some