Lyrics
I know some sistas round here, where they at, where they at?
Who can care less 'bout your ride, where they at?
I know some sistas round here, where they at, where they at?
Who want a brotha with pride, where they at?
I know some sistas round here, where they at, where they at?
Who want a brotha with class, where they at?
I know some sistas round here, where they at, where they at?
Who dont need shit from yo ass, where they at?
(Damali)
Child of Destiny, your future on un-restfully, blinding the retinas off my face on MTV, the big booty crew, bounding all around like jig-a-boos, a disgrace- selling our your gender, pride and worse the black race, at a furious pace- leaving us real blacks to fall back, fighting back these stereotypes conceived in a white mans' hell
we got it tho, fuck the black race as long as you make number 9 on TRL.
Fuck all those black doctors, scientists, scholars holding it down for the black nation as long as you can strut that thing, flash that bling, and bring your videos into heavy rotation.
Child of Desiny, you're bringing our the worst in me, at award shows thanking God for your success is blasphemy wielding your strap on, molesting your race- you are performing a cultural hysterectomy- Child of Desiny you're crazy in love with money or the money drove you crazy.
Tramp, where's your pride?
Yeah, it's coming from me. Didn't you learn anything from blowing on Jaz Z?
It amazes me how y'all got that much bank, but still strut around like Aunt Tommasinas with a chickenhead stank.
(Vision)
Kelly, Beyonce and Michelle- you said fuck common sense and circumvented your artistic responsibility in a poor attempt to sell some records and get some streeet credibility by perpetuating Sambo like stereotypes with your wants, needs and likes-
like, fuck educated brothas with degrees, I kwant a drug delaing man who can take care of me. These same chicks that were independent women and survivors now want a thugged-out, gold- in - the- mouth candy-painted driver, perpetuation and planting small fibers of misinformation to a generation of young female subscribers.
They forced me to draw this written artistic composite, clean out my closet and call a spade a spade since I feel betrayed by these.. bitches... that's all about the riches masquerading around as true sistas.
One minute singing about the Lord and having fun, next they want a thugged-out hood nigga with a gun.
And I didnt want to write a piece like this to belittle them, but Michelle singing about thugs is like Yolanda Adams doing a song with Lil'kim.
And talking about thugs is fun and good until you have to take out the restraining order, then run to a brotha like me to help you take care of your son and daughter.
(Damali)
Sherlock Holmes couldn't break this down to me, not this mystery, hou on your last CD, you went from women living independently, on a hardcore switch, from women I respected, to a drug dealer's bitch.
Maybe I am hating, but the fact that wack song is soaring like a comet could make Malcolm, Martin and Marcus turn in their graves with shame and vomit.
Let me get to the point, Bamboozled (thats a Spike Lee joint), I'm assuming that you're broke since you're shittin on blacks like me so here's 20 bucks,bitch, by the DVD.
Beyonce, Kelly and whoever is in the line up this week, my status ain't hood, but you can never shake the street.
It's a damn shame that your daddies never told ya, that only the conquered look for handouts from soldiers.
And yo, whoa, all real soldiers know
that only makes you weak when you give a ho your dough- that money should go to your wives, kids, families, because they're the ones who got your back.
And this shit goes for Whites, Asians, Blacks and Hispanics, real sistas are the shit and they carry themselves like Queens.
So what the fuck does a real sista want with a soldier when it's her destiny to breed with us kings?
(Vision)
I've preached and written speeches
