This is a song about "Split"

Poppa saying momma ain't care about you and would rather split/

Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit

I know the world been waiting for that

Can i get real for a split minute

So i must then get, off the bus then split

And if i'm down with this banging shit

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

Split into recursive factions

Spun out and then split like a dryer,

Stir up all these feelings inside of her

Niggas in the street scared

He can split he can bend

Ex-boyfriend was wack, she had enough of all that

Its a man's world re-write your lines lickety split

But my magic trick will cause a car to split,

Y'all similes is literal shit