Queen Tut Lyrics
| Song | Queen Tut |
| Artist | Chief Kamachi |
| Album | Radio Raheem |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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 |
| 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 |
| 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 |
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