[Intro: Chief Keef]
I'm Marty McFly
Fly, I'm Marty McFly
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Fly, I'm Marty McFly
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Fly, I'm Marty McFly
Fly, I'm Marty McFly
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Bitch, bang, ayy
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: Chief Keef]
N***a, what the fuck is you talkin' bout? Shit, I know
N***a, what you wanna get hit with?
This .45 or this .40? N***a, this 30 or this 50?
This FN, this semi or this K?
N***a, you and your friend need to go play, bitch
Ya looking for me? I'm outta state, bitch
He ain't on shit (On, shit, ayy)
Remember your play shoes and play fit, bitch!
She be fuckin', you wanna taste dick?
Bro hand me the blick and I'm like "It's lit"
Fuck is talm 'bout? We waitin' for you outside of my house
Matter of fact, we ain't gon' do that, I ain't gangster
We gon' catch yo' lil bitch ass eatin' glasher, let's get it
Dope got a n***a lookin' like he from Asia
And my cup pinker than eraser
Yeah, I rock Designer but this ain't none major
Yeah n***a, you a snitch, it's on paper
Yeah, I be ballin' on 'em, Indiana Pacers
I be fuckin' hoes, thinkin' that I'm a Slater
Call Virgil, tell 'em bring me up some off white
These n***as all barkin', no bite
We lettin' pistols off, won't fight
Baby, these big B's, no mikes
When shit turn left, n***a, turn right
My bitch steady talkin' 'bout shit she don't like
While I got big stacks, your height
Boy, I got big shells, your size
Man, I swear I tell no lies
Ask OG's, I got street ties
Boy, you won't knock down a B-high
Runnin' to the max, spend a mini max
Up choppers on 'em, blow the n***a high
When he get in the car, man, he finna cry
Countin' these checks and care about pretty sides
I call a double drum, Congo, bitch
Spent my whole life in a jungle, bitch
Did a couple times in a cell, bitch
Now, when you see me, I'm grindin' down in that rail, bitch
[Verse 2: Tadoe]
One time for the Go, two times for the bro
Three times for the rolls, four times for the folks
Five times for the moes, five shots through your throat
Six for the fuckin' gangsters, seven for this fuckin' pole, .357
Eight for the fuckin' balls, send you to heaven
Straight drop white walls, nina tucked off in my draws
Ten bands for a call a get you smoked
MAC-11 with my shorty'll get you poked
You know we don't fuck with 12
Thirteen guns up on the shelf
Popped fourteen opps by myself
Fifteen like I'm fuckin' Melo
Sixteen, shot my damn beretto
17 my fuckin' Glock
Eighteen, standing on the pot
Nineteen, serving on the block
Twenty, I was getting guap
21, I got shot, he got hit with a mop
22, it was the Glock
23 like I'm Jordan
24, I'm scoring like Kobe
25 in my .30
26, I'm still rich
27 bands for my wrist
28s up on my Trackhawk
29s up in the traphouse
With the 30 make me spazz out
31 off in this 40
[Verse 3: Chief Keef]
32 like Juicemannn
I got that .33, call 911 emergency (bitch)
Got 34 calls this week from folks that's fighting first degree
Got 35 shots in this Glock 19 if you think bout hurtin' me
Got 36 hoes that's texting my phone that's tryna twerk for me
Got 37 thousand on me (Bitch)
Bought 38 fuckin' guns (Bitch)
39 of these n***as my son
I'm gonna give you 'bout 40 to run
Got 41 magazines
42 of my hoes acting mean
I'ma be 43 with a beam
.44 gon' sing what it sing
I'ma be 45 rockin' Gucci
46, yeah, I'm fly like I'm Lucci
47, gettin' more than a Medusa
48, have bitches sign my boots
49, still riding in them coupes
Been 50 shoot 50 n***a, just shoot
Send 51 n***as get up with you
They don't catch you here come another 52