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 see'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 three
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 ninety
(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 zirconium
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 three
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 ninety
(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
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 three
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 ninety
(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 three
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 ninety
(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

Writer : ELLIOTT, MELISSA A/MOSLEY, TIMOTHY Z
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.