Missy Elliot Let me fix my Weave Lyrics:
What's up motherfuckers? I need to know is V-A up
in this bitch? New York, St. Louis, Chicago,
Philly, LA, Atlanta I'm diggin' that But how
about the ladies that got a head full of fake
weave or braids Holla at ya peoples Oh! C'mon

Ooh baby let me fix my weave Touch me up and let
me fix my weave You could pick me up about a
quarter to 3 Before I walk in the club I gotta
fix my weave (Oh) Baby fix my weave Baby baby
let me fix my weave On the highway I do above 90
(woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

I met a guy named Tommy Very charming He was on
me like cheese be on macaroni His game real tight
making me so horny Fine enough for us to fuck and
be his baby mommy You really don't know me So I
moves it slowly Brush up and let him hold me Let
me spit some baloney Baby you could call me If
you go down on me But you got to back up off me
Wearing cubic zirconia I told him, “Baby let me
fix my weave I got a hair out of place and use a
fake ID.” Pepe LePew voulez vous ooh oui You
want to misdemeanor me You gotta spend more G's
(ohhwee)

Ooh baby let me fix my weave Touch me up and let
me fix my weave You could pick me up about a
quarter to 3 Before I walk in the club I gotta
fix my weave (Oohwee) Baby fix my weave Baby
baby let me fix my weave On the highway I do
above 90 (woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

I used to date a guy named Chris Sloppy with his
kiss But he was good with his tongue I called
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him Mr. Young One Mr. Young One had a big
ding-dong Balls the size of ping-pong I had him
souped like won-ton I put the beat on And on my
ass he skeet on I put the heat on young gun
Fresh meat he season Yes, yes we used to creep
down the beach He was insane like Rick James And
with a mask he's Superfreak I told him, “Gimme
cash to fix my weave And I don't want no excuses
‘bout your baby mommy ‘cause your child support
money don't fix my weave and you know nigga
please me no fuck for free.”

Ooh baby let me fix my weave Touch me up and let
me fix my weave You could pick me up about a
quarter to 3 Before I walk in the club I gotta
fix my weave (Oh) Baby fix my weave Baby baby
let me fix my weave On the highway I do above 90
(woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

I got a call from Joe He used to call me J.Lo
Hey-lo, how you doing? Used to ask who I was
screwing Joe was pursuing Sex was good all
“ooh-in” Moan he was grown He would fuck me ‘til
the mo'nin' I used to get vex when he would sex
another bitch Said “Baby don't trip, just like
Ben I'm rich” Jen don't bitch, then Miss don't
bitch Lopez get rich, call me Miss Affleck I
tell him, “Baby I need a new weave Because my
tracks feel whack, I want to hit the party You
want to play like Ben then give me your keys
‘cause even Jen drive a Benz to go fix a weave.”

Ooh baby let me fix my weave Touch me up and let
me fix my weave You could pick me up about a
quarter to 3 Before I walk in the club I gotta
fix my weave (Oh) Baby fix my weave Baby baby
let me fix my weave On the highway I do above 90
(woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

To the heavy weave cities Miami, Jersey, D.C.,
the Carolinas, Detroit, Louisville, Ohio, to all
the projects To the beauty salons, and curling
irons stitching in that ? hair Okay, oohwee yeah
fix your weave Straight up like a perm you heard
Lyrics: Let me fix my Weave, Missy Elliot [end]