Queen Tut

I call a slick chick the ruler…
Queen Tut, the first female African jeweler
Neck full of emeralds, respected by the criminals
Try to tell these sewer rats…
Statues of the queen in Africa look identical
The pale version of Nefertiti subliminal
They playing cover girl, caught up in another world
My hands on a real black oyster with a mother pearl
She shake a little knowledge to the drummer roll
She do her thing… look like summer gold
Her energy could brighten up a dark day
She doing crazy over posers…
Puff a little old school herb on her off day
Writing in her poetry journal, sipping a coffee
Every time she speak I think she lost me
Chill, you ain’t Lauryn Hill, killing me softly
Yeah, Queen Tut
She ain’t caught up in the TV or the peer pressure
…they say beauty in the eye of beholders
Her daddy called her the queen every time he would hold her
Now she only pick real men when she got older
Ain’t jealous on no women, they ain’t no chip on her shoulder
…all those lip injections and hip corrections
Black Madonna and the child, no disconnection…
Every time she speak I think she lost me
Chill, you ain’t Lauryn Hill, killing me softly
Yeah, Queen Tut