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