This is a song about "Sort"

If that bitch don't like you, she gonna tell you how she feel

This is sort of the tuth nobody speaks, we don't dare to hear,

Offered me sort of a realization,

Where god at? i need to call him

Malia family, we the family

Is this the sort of man you want to be?

When they hate, i never give a whole fuck, or half shit

At least i'd have some sort of legacy, a chance to ever blow it,

Doin twenty to life in san quentingettin calls from my nigga mike tyson, ain't nuttin nice

Smoking weed, inhaling illegal chemicals, looking and hoping for some sort of relief,

My bitch bad, looking like a bag of money

Is this the sort of man you want to be?

I got ways to sort beef like shattering jaws on concrete,

Like you never get right? sort of like a black sheep

That i don't hate myself in any sort of way

The arguments are gettin' loud, i wanna stay