"Woman's Gotta Have It" (Bobby Womack)

"Woman's Gotta Have It" from Bobby Womack's 1972 album Understanding is about as deep as soul music gets.
It's not just any old song about relationships; it's the late, great Womack making an ardent plea to certain married men who take their wives for granted.  He's basically saying, unless you make sure her needs are taken care of, you're going to find yourself very alone.
From a musical standpoint, the track is steeped in sweet Memphis soul.  It's built upon the in-the-pocket percussion of American Sound Studios session drummer Hayward Bishop and punctuated by Mike Leech's silky bassline, which is indebted to Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" in both spirit and melody.  For that matter, the call-and-response/echo vocals where Womack sings both lead and backup seem like a direct homage to Gaye's song, too.
Even so, this track has its own singular groove that seems as ready for the dance floor as it is for l'amour.  And that's why it's so easy to put it on "repeat," four or five times.

"That's the Way I Feel About Cha" (Bobby Womack)

"That's the Way I Feel About Cha" is a single off Bobby Womack's 1971 album Communication.  Prior to the single's release, Womack had been known as part of his family's vocal group, The Valentinos, and as a friend/collaborator of Sam Cooke, Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, and Janis Joplin.  (It was while riding in Womack's Mercedes coupe that Joplin came up with the song "Mercedes Benz.") Once "That's the Way I Feel About Cha" hit #2 on the R&B charts in 1972, he became a star in his own right.

It's a soulful ballad where the protagonist is having a discussion with his distraught mate; she's questioning his love while also giving in to he-said/she-said rumors and self doubt.  He tells her, quite frankly, that she needs to stop questioning his loyalty, stop treating his affection as weakness, and count her blessings that he's in her life.  It's not as chauvinistic as it might sound, though; it's actually quite tender.  The song puts him in the position of being the vulnerable one (even though he's the one telling her how much she has to lose), which is kind of unique for a 70s soul song.  
The soulful backing track is the handiwork of The Swampers, a.k.a. the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section: Barry Beckett on keyboards, Roger Hawkins on drums, David Hood on bass, and Jimmy Johnson on lead guitar—the same bunch of guys from backwoods Alabama who'd supported Wilson Pickett on "Land of 1000 Dances," Percy Sledge on "When A Man Loves a Woman," Etta James on "Tell Mama," and many, many others.  The tight-but-loose groove of this song is a dead giveaway that the track was played by the guys from 3614 Jackson Highway, Sheffield, AL.  
And while each player and each element is essential to this song, I have to point out Johnson's lead guitar.  It absolutely wails.  I mean, it sounds like someone crying.  It's what makes an already great track unforgettable.

"Across 110th Street" (Bobby Womack)

Across 110th Street is a blaxploitation/action film starring Anthony Quinn and Yaphet Kotto from late 1972.  I've never seen it, but I've read that it's pretty violent.  (But what action films weren't during that era?)
The soundtrack combines tracks by the underrated Bobby Womack and trombonist/composer J.J. Johnson.  A lot of it sounds painfully dated and kind of like off-brand Super Fly (which was released earlier the same year).  But Womack's contributions stand out, particularly the title song.  
Revived and put to perfect use in the opening credits and final scene of my favorite Quentin Tarantino film, Jackie Brown (1997), "Across 110th Street" is a gritty portrait of inner-city life and struggling to survive.  Womack mixes semi-autobiographical info (he was actually the third brother of five in his family) with details that are more closely related to the film, specifically the references to Harlem (the unofficial boundary of which is Manhattan's 110th Street).  Nevertheless, Womack points out that pimps, prostitutes, pushers, and other social ills weren't just plaguing Harlem; they were a reality in cities all across America where people were trying to find a way out and a way up.   
In every city you find the same thing going down / Harlem is the capital of every ghetto town.
Along with the poignant social commentary, it's a helluva groove.  (My favorite elements are that pattern on the hi-hat paired with the moving bassline and that subtle Moog synth line that opens and closes the song.)