Always On My Mind Songtext - Michael Bublé

Always On My Mind - Michael Bublé

I'm goin' in

[Verse 1:]
Excuse my persona, green tea Arizonas
Skins cappuccino, with a lighter mix of mocha
Neck ain't even froze up, but I'm loco with my loca
Plus my wifey drive me crazy, so I call that girl my chauffeur
Hit the beat, Sammy Sosa
Swagger leaning like a post-up
She sitting on my lap and says its comfy like her sofa
Shooting like a pistol, but she holds me like a holster
She say I got The Knack, so I call her My Sharona
These rappers never get it, I tell them get off my scrotum
They worshipping my pole like it's religious, totem
Isn't livin' so nice
You dudes are right behind my jeans
If your life's great, then mines is greater with no tiny cheese
Ya'll confuse my eyes and think that Pryde just be here chinese
Got your shorty bending down like she's trying to tie her sneaks
Prizzy keep on doing this
Pulling crazy fusion chicks
Repping for my asians, til' the day that I die stupid rich
Hundred thousand youtube hits

So haters will all get destroyed
Young Prizzy or Young Pretzel Boy (yeah!)

[Verse 2:]
Oh my god where did my head go
Hope the fans vote me No Pedro
Gotta race in the game, and you dudes all last

I'm Usain Bolt, and your leg broke
Futuristic, I ride with the best flow
Been doing this since the get-go
Inspectah Deck I'm the best, a threat

Got that Wu-Tang check yo neck flow
Wait, stop the instrumental
Put the beat back on, let me get dough
Put the dubs in the air like you just don't care

Even if I ain't repping for the West Coast
Don't you like it when I go fast
Broke boy still repping with no cash
Never smoke, but the boy got dope raps
All you be doing is hating, go withhold tax

The drama popper, I'm kinda proper

You gotta watch it
Back I'm flawless, go suck my willy willy no wonka wonka

Get me wrong on fifty songs
Kill them all physical
If G's move in silence, then I'm louder than an intercom
If you hate the new me, go find a new Russ
Prizzy be that big yellow rolling, no school bus
I'm about to wreck the beat
Cook it with no recipe
Yes I do light up like Thomas Edison invented me
Yeah the rhymes are hot, but my whole spirit is Decembery
Mars Music, NHB

[Verse 3:]
Got no paper because my money always be on absence
Homie, real geeks don't wear non prescribed glasses
Never touched the pot, not a fan of ceramics
Wipe you away greasy rap artists, I'm fantastic
I'm about as good to Canada as Steve Nash is

Or like Drizzy Drake, or like Michael Buble cause I

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