[Chorus: Sung by a woman]

Sista, you've been on my mind.

Sista, we're two of a kind.

Sista, I'm keeping my eyes on you...



Sista.  Black girl, how you living?

Niggaz say you trippin'. They talk about how you're bitching

Some feel, you're out to get them, and you're wicked as shit

They say your actions make you deserve to be treated like a bitch

But, as the sun can make the Earth travel at magnificent speeds

I can make these sistas stop and revolve around me

See, I'm your D to the O to the D to the P to the R: your teacher

I'll turn the savagest sista, into Shakilah

I leave no room for imperfection.  I'm as god as god gets

I love your hair when it's nappy.  Your lips when they thick

Manipulate that excess fume.  Lubricate you at the womb

Girl, you could've been my earth, but you chose to be his moon

Why of course.  I like scorts and the daisy duke shorts

But "Word is Life."  The gods are righteous

You should've been rocking three-quarters

It seems the bigger your breast, the tighter the shirt

And the larger your behind, the smaller the skirts

I never wanted to be pointing out the wrong within you

But I see room for correction in some things that you do

You telling me, "All men are dogs," and we ain't about shit

So when a fool call you "bitch," you insist on flip

But what really fucked me up is when I saw you that day

Your girlfriend called you a bitch and it was peace and okay

Sista, your situation ethics never did mean jack

And I know for a fact, you can't explain that

I give a shout out, to all the full time queens:

Anti-bitch around the clock, who know what black woman means

Ain't trying to paint no evil picture

I'm trying to get with ya

Your righteous people miss ya:

Black sista



[Chorus: Sung by a woman.  From "The Color Purple."]

Sista, you've been on my mind.

Sista, we're two of a kind.

Sista, I'm keeping my eyes on you.



Brother.  Black man, how you living?

Sistas say we trippin'.  They talk about how we're slipping

They feel we out to get them, and we know that it's wrong

They say our actions make us deserve to be treated like we're dogs

But as the sun can maintain and provide for the earth

The black man can fat her, and not bounce at the birth

See, she's your Q to the U to the E to the EN: your sista

Some brothers often diss her.  Impregnate n' not be with her

See brother, you can draw her up

Make her as earth as earth as earth gets

But it takes a god of a black man to plant and grow this

But you manipulate her brain.  Throw her on that transit train

Trafficking your crack cocaine.  You niggaz is insane

I'll tell you plain and simple.  As long as Sha got instrumentals

I can brush this off you mental: from here to infinite

She's a hooker.  She's a slut.  A mother fucking hood rat

But you telling her for the sex, she's a queen and all of that?

Man, I cram to  understand .  God damn.  I swear to the Vilan

This shit gets out of hand.  Must be worth 50 grand

I'm not trying to paint no evil picture

 I'm trying to get with ya

Your righteous people miss ya:

Black sista



[Chorus: Sung by a woman]

Sista, you've been on my mind.

Sista, we're two of a kind.

Sista, I'm keeping my eyes on you