Point me 2 tha bag

[Intro]
(Point me to the bag)
(Point me to the bag)
(Da-Damn Carie)
(Ain’t really tryna brag)

[Chorus]
Point me to the bag (Ya!)
Point me to the bag (Ya)
Point me to the bag, po-po-point me to the bag
I’m so rich, I ain’t really tryna brag
All the fucking jits say “Dris, point us to the bag”

[Verse]
I like when we laugh together, but you cannot cry alone
Just got some braids, white Iverson, no Post Malone
When I step in the room, got the two-tone, it set the tone
When they go through my bag, they see two phones, they think sumn is wrong
Why whould I flex on my teacher?
She a dumb bitch
Why would I flex on my wife?
That’s some dumb shit
Got no percs inside of me
I’m not a drumkit
Final goal?
Throw my cousin in a moshpit
That’s the life that I dreamt about
Yellow Lamb’ look like WaffleHouse
Point me to the bag, know what I talk about?
Empty Neimans, then I’m walking out
Step on the table like Bobby
Paris-Tokyo, Fivi’
You fell off like Bobby
And he fell off like Fivi’
For that cash, I’m never slow
For that cash, you is a ho

[Chorus]

[Outro]
(Point me to the bag)
(Point me to the bag)
(Point me to the bag)
(Point me to the bag)
(I’m so rich, I ain't really tryna brag, Paris where I’m at)