Let Me Fix My Weave Lyrics

Finally, one place where you can find ALL of the Let Me Fix My Weave lyrics by MISSY 'MISDEMEANOR' ELLIOTT. See the line you could never quite figure out on your own? All of our MISSY 'MISDEMEANOR' ELLIOTT, Let Me Fix My Weave lyrics have been recreated with the original spellings, grammar and meanings. Notice also in some instances Let Me Fix My Weave footnotes and MISSY 'MISDEMEANOR' ELLIOTT lyrics details that never made it to the MISSY 'MISDEMEANOR' ELLIOTT CD cover, featuring Let Me Fix My Weave lyrics.

Let Me Fix My Weave Lyrics

by MISSY 'MISDEMEANOR' ELLIOTT

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 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-a