52 (Original)

[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] Nigga, what the fuck is you talkin' bout? Shit, I know Nigga, what you wanna get hit with? This .45 or this .40? Nigga, this 30 or this 50? This FN, this semi or this K? Nigga, 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 nigga lookin' like he from Asia And my cup pinker than eraser Yeah, I rock designer but this ain't none major Yeah, nigga, 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 niggas all barkin', no bite We lettin' pistols off, won't fight Baby, these big B's, no mikes When shit turn left, nigga, 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 nigga 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 Seventeen my fuckin' Glock Eighteen, standing on the pot Nineteen, serving on the block Twenty, I was getting guap Twenty-one, I got shot, he got hit with a mop Twenty-two, it was the Glock Twenty-three, like I'm Jordan Twenty-four, I'm scoring like Kobe Twenty-five in my .30 Twenty-six, I'm still rich Twenty-seven bands for my wrist Twenty-eights up on my Trackhawk Twenty-nines up in the traphouse With the thirty, make me spazz out Thirty-one off in this .40 [Verse 3: Chief Keef] 32 like Juiceman I got that .33, call 911 emergency (bitch) Got thirty-four calls this week from folks that's fighting first degree Got thirty-five shots in this Glock 19 if you think 'bout hurtin' me Got thirty-six hoes that's texting my phone that's tryna twerk for me Got thirty-seven thousand on me (Bitch) Bought thirty-eight fuckin' guns (Bitch) Thirty-nine of these niggas my son I'm gonna give you 'bout forty to run Got forty-one magazines Forty-two of my hoes acting mean I'ma be forty-three with a beam .44 gon' sing what it sing I'ma be forty-five rockin' Gucci Forty-six, yeah, I'm fly like I'm Lucci Forty-seven, gettin' more than a Medusa Forty-eight, have bitches sign my boots Forty-nine, still riding in them coupes Been fifty shoot 50 nigga, just shoot Send fifty-one niggas get up with you They don't catch you, here come another fifty-two