— You're not a stalker or anything, right?
— I'm not a stalker. You're the one that talked to me. Remember?
— That is the oldest trick in the stalker book.
— Really? There's a stalker book? Okay. I gotta read that one.
— Even if he found that roach, how could he know where you are?
— Heat-seeking missiles. Bloodhounds. Foxes. Barracudas.
— I'm kind of fIabbergasted when you say things like that. It's weird.
— Thank you.
— Doc! Doc, come in!
— Marty, come in.
— Listen, Biff's guys chased me into the gym and they're gonna jump... me.
— Then get out of there!
— No, Doc, not me. The other me. The one that's up on stage playing «Johnny B. Goode».
— Great Scott! Your other self will miss the lightning bolt. You won't get back to the future and we'll have a major paradox!
— Wait. A paradox? You mean one of those things that can destroy the universe?
— Precisely.
If the Feds want to get you, they'll figure out a way. Conspiracy was one of their favorites.
One way or another I'm gonna lose ya.
I'm gonna give you the slip, a slip of the lip or another.
I'm gonna lose ya, I'm gonna trick ya.
One way or another I'm gonna lose ya.
I'm gonna trick ya trick ya trick ya trick ya.
One way or another I'm gonna lose ya.
I'm gonna give you the slip.