Lyrics Tha Last Man Standin’ - Fat Pat

Tha Last Man Standin’

Bottom all the way to the top
And it seems like a struggle but I had to get out, no doubt
Bout my paper so I had to mash, 150 on my dash
So you know I’m rolling fast, all about my cash
Ain’t no time to play, put it in perspective
Time for ho checking, bitch made nigga wrecking
What, uh, with that talking down shit
But don’t know shit, but all up on my dick?
Miss me with that sideways shit, I’m on a mission
Pay attention, watch the news, got my shoes, pay your own dues
And pick your own fools to ride wit, get high wit
That do or die shit, that no lie shit
We multiply chips and gain fat grips, but I tell you
If yo eyes ain’t open, they’ll get ya, if I catch em I smoke em
Uh, if I catch em I smoke em, uh, if I catch em I smoke em
I kept my mind on my paper — yeah, I stayed on my grind
While the haters and the hoes — yeah, they all talked down
All the way to the top is the way it gotta be
It’s the Mister in the place, so what do you see?
I kept my mind on my paper — yeah, I stayed on my grind
While the haters and the hoes — yeah, they all talked down
All the way to the top is the way it gotta be
It’s the Mister in the place, so what do you see?
Pulling up on the corner, jumping out my Benz
Holler at that boy Tony and a couple more friends
Conversating about Benjamin’s and niggas who owed us ends
Pulled Tony to the side, asked him if he wanted to make quick wins
A couple of chickens, Tony was game
And I ain’t seen that boy to this very day
I’m rolling with my nine, on sight it’s going down
Blasting for my green, putting it all on the line
I couldn’t believe it, good guy gone bad
But when I catch that cat, he wish he never had
The streets be bumping bout situations, bout taking care of my business
Hell na cause, I ain’t bullshitting, that nigga’s gonna get it
I kept my mind on my paper — yeah, I stayed on my grind
While the haters and the hoes — yeah, they all talked down
All the way to the top is the way it gotta be
It’s the Mister in the place, so what do you see?
Players get gangsta too (that's right)
Jumpin out my gators into my stomping boots
To make a nigga feel it if it’s like that
Cause knuckling up ain’t a thang with Mr. Fat Pat
But ain’t about no bullshit, I’m about my mail
Stack my ends, floss my Benz, aid my clientele
That he say she say — a bunch of bullshit
Just mad cause a nigga fucking his bitch and trying to get rich
And what about the snitch, that boy ain’t saying nothing
Put his body in a body-bag and burnt off on my buttons
Came strutting through the lobby, I seen that boy Tony
The Lord only know that I had my pistol on me
Do or die situations, hesitation will get me killed
And I knew that Tony had his pistol up in here
Gunshots rang out and I’m the last man standing
Mr. Fat Pat standing strong busting him with his god damn cannon
I kept my mind on my paper — yeah, I stayed on my grind
While the haters and the hoes — yeah, they all talked down
All the way to the top is the way it gotta be
It’s the Mister in the place, so what do you see?