This is a song about "Sort"

Aboard with swords n' forts but no torch to sort regions

Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns

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,

Money is most of y'all interest

I've always been sort of a pacifist

Gotta be a way to sort the operation.

Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him

I know that love it could begin

Thought of, cuz it's sort of...an addiction,

That i had some sort of edge, some kind of advantage,

The only reason why i put up with this stupid ass bitch

So gon' and be my dealer baby

Is this the sort of man you want to be?

Don't give a shit so my dick fuck bladders in your ear

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