Backstreet blowin' marijuana, bumping eight hundred and eight and soul
Gold chain swingin on my baby: Where we goin'? I don't know
Deep, deep summer, Alabama, heat is drippin' on the floor
Bag, bag, bags of money, we can go wherever we wanna go

Louisiana on the wind, New Orleans heroin
I get you in trouble, boy, I'm final level sin
And you ain't innocent, hell, I ain't innocent
Fuck it if the record show, let everybody know

Ooh, I'm up to something
Ooh, we up to something
Ooh, we up to something criminal

Criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something

Low ride in the city with a boy that's got something to hide
Sin, sin, sin so pretty he don't know, but damnit, so do I, yeah
The way he look, look, lookin' at me makes me wanna lay down and die
Ain't the time, ain't the type I like the boy, but, damn, I love the way he lies

Louisiana on the wind, New Orleans heroin
I get you in trouble, boy, I'm final level sin
And you ain't innocent, hell, I ain't innocent
Fuck it if the record show, let everybody know

Ooh, I'm up to something
Ooh, we up to something
Ooh, we up to something criminal
Ooh, I'm up to something
Ooh, we up to something, woah
Ooh, we up to something criminal
Woah, we up something (ooh, criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something)
Oh, we up to something (ooh, criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something)
Oh, we up to something (criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something)

Criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something
Criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something
Criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something
Criminal