Minder Surprises

by Doctor FLAKE

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    Doctor FLAKE 's third Album (2009)

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1.
2.
3.
4.
04:29
5.
6.
04:34
7.
04:11
8.
03:30

credits

released March 9, 2009

Composed and produced by Doctor FLAKE
Vocals and guitar on 2 and 8 by Vale POHER
Vocals on 3 and 5 by Miscellaneous

Artwork by Yannick Corboz

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Track Name: Fightclubbing
You’ve been lying to yourself
You’ve been laughing with yourself
Is it true what you told me
Is it me or my body

When we dance we feel lonely
In darkness what can you see
You’ll try to hold my hand, by the end

Tonight you drift and touch the sky
You dance in lies, do you realise
That it’s not you

Tonight you drift and touch the sky
You dance in lies, do you realise
That it’s not you
Track Name: Let us play with your brain
Man, shit is brightly structured but quite corrupted, they fuck with
your quiet plans to have your life destructed like a rupture.
You try to up a notch, they tug you back down,
you study to frown at Darwinism in order to alter your background.
With a useless college grant; hand in your copies blank
'cause wisdom is a damn system made for the topest rank.
It's not their plan to hand this knowledge out freely,
'cause Man is evil, greedy and needs to dominate the needy.
They'll make you take it easy, scheming on the lamp and genie,
the mansion, the sweety, plasma-screened Tvs and the lamborghini.
Plastic scenery's got us all by the balls,
back to walls, bowing, buying lousy shit in horrid malls.
We crawl at slow pace while they punch our faces,
and fucking make us even pay to take a piss in public places.
We play their shitty game in the same single, insane,
sinful, plain and simple way they tend to play with our shitty brains...

What the fuck is Democracy? Secret services and hypocresy,
Lord of War was not just a loony movie, watch and see!
Nothing new under the sun it's just another day,
another war: somebody's kid's giving their blood away.
Mislead, shedding litres for their cold leaders
who've got both feet up on their office, smoking cohibas.
They own the medias and feed them with a bunch of lies,
so that every tragic event actually seems justified.

Let us play with your brain

Plus they try to fuck us harder and nobody's bothered in
budging their ass to solve the problem that is bubbling.
Brothers and sisters, listen close before it's over!
Don't remain arm folded, snoozing through this awful coma.
Get off you sofa, turn off your television,
tear your frigging furniture to shredders, make your own decisions!
But don't you listen to close to what I'm saying,
'cause you wouldn't even know if I'm the one that's playing!

Let us play with your brain
Track Name: Hip hop tourist
Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist,
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist.

Some tell me I'm corny and couldn't call this hip-hop,
that I bought my whole style at the tourist gift shop.
Would I score and get props if I babbled about guns,
if I went "Eminem" I'd get platinum albulms.
If I had baggy pants and a fat sweater
and put black paint on my face, would cats claim that I rap better?
Some say whites can't be part of the cause,
speak of colour... my lungs are probably darker than yours.

Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist,
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist.

Pardon me, but your palms are surely darker than mines,
see it's absurd to think "skin" is your licence to rhyme.
Don't limit yourself, it's all about a dope lyric
'cause when a mic gets ripped, who gives a fuck who's holdin' it.
Just let your mind travel to unexplorable spots,
forget them black and white movies, set forward your clocks.
I'm hip-hop, and if it takes shouting and yelling,
I'ma yell it louder until my fucking album is selling!

Hip-hop's a ghetto with the gates that they keep barred,
and I'm the immigrant that can't get me a green card.
I've tried to prove I'm worthy and loyal,
my step brothers treat me like a worm in the soil.
I've had my hand coiled on mics and tried to get respect,
sweated at shows, perfected my flows, but they won't accept me yet!
I've walked around, on hand on my balls, bragging and flossing,
fat chain and a gangster-cross dangling off it...

Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist,
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist.

I've battled 'til forfeit, but I'm banned like the tourist,
yet I find pastoral peace exiled in the forest.
Alienated, they won't hear me today,
but I'll get my stripes at the end of this shakespearian play!
Ain't a border I can not get round, they can lock me out,
but I'ma fuck my step-mother 'til she loves her adopted child!
Recognize when it comes to the flow,
and just keep it in mind like a fucking slug in your skull!

the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist.
Track Name: Loveless
By the way,
I love you less and less
Actually,
I don’t want to see your face

In your eyes, i’am now useless
You’ve just walked on my face
How come have your words changed
And you just, just pretend

By the way,
I love you less and less
Actually,
I don’t want to see your face

If i am, so useless, lost in a world in progress
How come my mind has changed
There is now empty space
There is now other face

I’d love to scream...

By the way,
I love you less and less
Actually,
I don’t want to see your face