| She tossed the flamer '94 walked into danger
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| Behind the wall fought with a banger
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| Trapped in the beast, gas released, a rat deceased
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| Back on the street, back on her feet
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| Clappin the heat…
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| She’s dressed to kill
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| Iced-out head to toe, a snake in black
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| She’s cleared, to, get ill
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| She’s about the dough, the black widow
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| Yo, she was a tight bird, female version of Iceberg
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| To put in the right words
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| Played the right curves, beige and white birds
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| The type she served it was quite superb
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| Ran through the city in a white suburb
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| Lived in a predominantly white suburb
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| She liked the herb, rockin all the richest type of furs
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| Make your life submerge if you strike a nerve
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| Dough she like to splurge
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| Shine of her light blurs from off her finger
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| Honey was off the ringer, the way she tossed the flamer
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| '94 walked into danger, behind the wall fought with a banger
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| Trapped in the beast, gas released, a rat deceased
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| Back to the street, back on her feet
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| Clappin the heat, from the back seat, in back of a jeep
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| Stackin the heat, pilin the ones
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| Made her point when violence was brung
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| Regulated and balanced the slums
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| Brought in a cat with a talent for guns
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| Click quick to silence a Dunn
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| Convoys of black limos
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| Employs strapped with mack millos
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| Bustin off caps through a cracked window, that’s the MO
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| Push your wig back, make you a black Leno
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| The feds on her tracks got the phones tapped for info
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| Tryin to map the dividend flow, and where the ends go
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| Checkin on whose name the Benz go
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| Who pushes the buttons when Mac-10's blow
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| A rose on a black satin pillow
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| The silhouette of her web, killin for bloodspill, a black widow
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| + (Kool G Rap)
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| She’s (out for blood) dressed (for the kill) to kill (bustin slugs)
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| Iced-out (shit is real) head (livin crime) to toe (life of crime)
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| A snake (droppin heads) in black (pullin nines)
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| She’s cleared (dodgin heat) to (play the street)
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| Get ill (let the guns blow, had to eat)
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| She’s about (copped the raw) the dough (went to war)
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| The black widow (beef no more, cold fours at your door)
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| She was married but four times a widow
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| The fifth time ditto, kiddo
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| Step out of line, kitko, she spit nines and shi-dells
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| Put a pound to the tip of your niddose
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| Put em in line piddles
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| Diamond-stud shinin the clito', the web spinnin
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| With bloodstains soaked in the bed linen
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| Spread venom, known for bustin the lead grinnin, tilted red brimmin
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| Makin the lights inside of your head dimmin
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| Givin head to men and, leave a knife in they chest with a red ribbon
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| Bread to swim in, foes get left deader than Lennon
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| Threads of linen, sippin gin with a shread of lemon
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| Dead-up thoroughbred, slim and trim and stackin cake like Emminger’s
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| Under the down coat brown coat like cinnamon
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| She went to have the Benjamins, for that she injure men
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| Send a squad to go and injure men that injure men
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| On top of that she popular, hit the opera
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| Francis Ford Coppola, mezzanine she’s with binoculars
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| You even think about poppin her, stoppin her, moppin her, droppin her
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| Hard with bodyguards divin on top of her
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| Cops in they Blu-Blockers watchin her, steady clockin her
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| Jock her, dreamin of knockin her, thinkin a scheme for knockin her
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| Dress provocative, show the cleavage between her knockers
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| Bust a sock off with a blocker to rasta inside her locker
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| She cover the bills though, restaurant delicatessen Armadillo
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| White Willow, strike of the black widow
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| She held a white weddin
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| Type settin just like a sight from heaven
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| Spend twice the bread’n from her last rice on her head’n
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| All types of presents, striking presence
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| Bodyguards ready to light they weapons, ignite the Wessons
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| Refuse to live the life of a peasant
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| Days and nights was right and type pleasant
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| At the foot of the aisles, took vows
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| With all the criminals and crook pals
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| That put smiles on niggas' necks while they look foul
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| Piles of cops peepin her central book files
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| Beef them niggas cook wild, groom lookin shook style
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| Forced into marriage, horse and a carriage
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| Remember lifespan shorter than average, lady boss flossin her carats
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| Dreams to get rich and perish in Paris
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| Cherish the cabbagem, makin her path out of the church passage
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| Thugs they do they dirt massive
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| Skirt slashed, first class, Doni Amberg glasses
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| Flirt with her lashes
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| Snapshots, smirk for the flashes
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| Plots to leave her murked in the masses
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| Two killin experts on the grasses
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| Put in they Tec work for the cashes
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| Leave the Earth hurt with a passion
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| Two louds shots burstin in action
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| Made her head jerk from the blastin
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| Lady down, holdin her shirt gaspin, hit by another turf assassin
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| Reason not even worth askin; |
| the facts are real, though
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| Got her cap peeled for stackin real dough
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| Lifestyle brillo when you’re rollin for krill dough
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| Death of a black widow |