Romeo Italian Guy

It’s a hot night down on 22nd Street
I tap my boots to a Rock ‘n’ Roll beat
Slip a comb through my greasy hair
Waiting for my baby to meet me there
Oh tonight she’ll be looking bella
That girl she’s my Lady Madonna
Mama thinks I’m a juvenile
She don’t like my Valentino style
Woah oh oh it’s no surprise
And I can see it in your eyes
You’ve been sneakin’ out ya window and tellin’ lies
‘Cos your mama don’t like the Italian guy
I park my motorcycle by your place
Up in your window I can see your face
“Hop on baby girl! Let’s go ridin’ down to Little Italy!”
My neighborhood is full of wise guys
With dark suits and starring eyes
Your folks tell ya ‘bout my street rockin’ ways
But they’ve never tried my Bolognese
Woah oh oh it’s no surprise
And I can see it in your eyes
You’ve been sneakin’ out ya window and tellin’ lies
‘Cos your mama don’t like the Italian guy
Your mama don’t like that kind of guy
Mama, mama, she don’t like guys of my kind
Mama, mama, she don’t like the Italian guy
It’s a hot New Jersey saturday night
The moon’s shining off my switchblade knife
I’m a modern day Al Capone
Living of beer and pizza pepperoni
When it’s time to say goodnight
I give you a ride home on my motorbike
You climb the ladder back into your room
“Ciao bella I’ll see you soon!”
Woah oh oh it’s no surprise
I can see it in your eyes
You’ve been sneakin’ out ya window and tellin’ lies
‘Cos your mama don’t like the Italian guy
Your mama don’t like the Italian guy
Your mama don’t like guys of my kind, oh no
Your mama don’t like the Italian guy, oh no
I don’t know why, why?
I don’t know why!