Backstreet blowing marijuana, bumping 808s and soul
Gold chain swanging on my baby, where we going I don't know
Deep deep summer Alabama, heat is dripping on the floor
Bag, bag, bags of money, we can go wherever we wanna go
Louisiana on a whim, 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
Oh, I'm up to something
Oh, we up to something
Oh, 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 damn it, so do I, yeah
The way he look, look, looking at me makes me want to 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 a whim, 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
Oh, I'm up to something
Oh, we up to something
Oh, we up to something, criminal
Oh, we up to something
Oh, we up to something
Oh, we up to something, criminal
Oh, we up to something (criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something
Oh, we up to something (criminal, criminal, yeah, we up to something
Oh, we up to something, criminal (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
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