Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Last Man Standin', artist - Fat Pat.
Date of issue: 19.02.2001
Song language: English
The 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? |