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OPEN LETTER TO TIP FROM ALFAMEGA

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Dear TIP,
Hopefully, this letter will find you in the very best of spirits. With that being said, let’s get
straight to the point. You once said, “… Ay, I don’t talk behind a nigga back I say it in his
face.” Well, consider this letter as me showing you my face.
Look, I understand that business is business therefore you have to manage yours the way
you see fit. On the real, I’m not coming to you as a disgruntled crying assed b*tch who’s
mad about being let go. I’m coming to you as a man who is disappointed that he was
publicly exiled by a friend. You’ve often said that you’re a man of your words but hommie;
you are not being true to your words. Instead, you’re trying to play me like I’m a pawn in
your own personal game of chess.
I’m sitting here contemplating my present circumstances and I’m astonished. Hommie, I
rode for you when there was no one else there to ride for you. 24/7, I was on call for you
pimp. On many occasions, I sidelined my family choosing to risk my early demise for you.
With a little cheddar, you can easily employ dudes to kill for you all day every day.
Conversely, try finding someone who will put their life on the line and die for you; it would
be easier to arm a boy scout with a Swiss army knife and send him to Afghanistan to find
Bin Laden and the Taliban. Seriously, I could have died during many instances that I
stepped up for you on. I’m dismayed by the fact that you – of all folk – would leave me
treading water in the middle of the ocean with my situation.
I was the first person you called when you got into that altercation in LA with Shaka’s DTP
people. Without any questions, I was right there ready to go to war for you. At one time, a
lot of dudes were questioning how you got that year and a day so the word in the streets was
that you were a snitch. I went off in those same streets for you. Shawty Lo dropped a song
that had a verse in it disrespecting you and your wife. I stood up for you and went off when
he disrespected you at the dirty awards. I got pepper sprayed, blasted down by the police
and everything. I did that for you and your wife. Man, Shawty Lo didn’t utter a single word
about me and my wife; it was all about you and yours.
Time after time, I defended your honor because you were my dawg; if they disrespected you,
they disrespected me. Every time you were presented with a problem, I stepped up without
any limitations, hesitations or stipulations. I wasn’t around you with my hands held out like
other begging assed dudes. Point blank, we’ve been through way too much for me to have to
maneuver through a bunch of bureaucracy. Yet when I attempted to reach out to you
through Doug, you sent word back telling me to write you a letter.
Frankly, I’m taking it as another b*tch slap to the face therefore I resolved that I would
gladly oblige your request. However, I decided that since you went publicly with your

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statement, I may as well go public with Mine. After all, there’s no sense in hiding now. Plus,
I’m hoping to avoid any further misunderstandings.

Essentially, what I’m trying to convey is that this situation can bee squashed in the same

manner that we’ve resolved disagreements in the past. I want you to pull up the red tape
and let’s communicate one on one. In other words, I want your publicists, managers,
artists, blogger, and everyone else excluded. Let’s straighten this out like two men because
before all of this we were friends. Doug has my number, call me.

Don’t take this as a challenge against your manhood; I’ve never questioned that. Don’t take
this as a physical threat against you or anyone else; I’m not trying to get off violently so no

guns, knives, fists, etc. In fact, don’t even take it as me disrespecting you; I will never
disrespect you, your family or anyone close to you. Even more, I still will not allow anyone
to disrespect you; even the dudes trying to side with me by disrespecting you on my behalf.
Because,, when the dust settles, I will still respect you and consider you my friend.

Once this is published, I’m giving you a week to call me. Should you choose to not call me
within that timeframe, I’ll know exactly where we stand. At that point, we’ll separate and we
can get it off like Muhammad Ali v/s George Foreman in The Rumble in the Jungle. It will
be what it is, you on your side of the ring and me on mine. Instead of a boxing ring, it’ll be
the studios and instead of boxing gloves, it’ll be me lyrically pounding you.

Hope you come home soon pimp, keep your head up and let all the bull go. Don’t worry
about propaganda, people always gone talk.

On the real,

Cedric Zellers – AKA
A, Alfamega

PS, I keep hearing rumors. Currently, the word on thee streets is that you put some money

on my head. The other rumor is that I cannot come back to the hood but I heard that one
while I was in the hood. So, I don’t give rumors credibility. All I’m saying is that you need

to handle your business; some of the people around you don’t need to be the re. There are
people in your camp who keep popping off at the mouth; specifically, your lil dude Pee Wee.

He should exercise some restraint and keep that mouth under control. That’’s how wars get
started between two nations that are supposed to be allies.

PPS, The fat dude in the group you recently signed ran up on my 15 year old daughter while

she was at the skating rink. He had a camera and was talking sh**t to her about rather or not
there was beef between the two of us. On some real shh*t, you need to control your kingdom

and PLEASE
keep your motha f*ckin troops straight. I’m only human; I don’t play when
it comes to my family. If they don’t fall back, I’m going to take it as an attack and

strategically lay plans as I’m sure you would if it were your family.

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Three-time Grammy-winning singer Jill Scott is counting down the days before
she gets to lay eyes on what she calls her most precious “gift” yet. The
soon-to-be-mom, whose due date is April 25, looks forward to her little one,
since past doctors told her that she was unable to conceive. “He’s my little
warrior,” Scott told Jet magazine. “So far, he’s been to Africa with me,
he’s worked in extreme heat and during 14-15 hour days. He’s hung in there
with me through this whole thing and I just cannot get over it. This is
incredible.”

If things had gone as intended, Scott would have married Lil’ John Roberts,
37, her band’s drummer, last month. The pregnancy, however, has since
altered their plans. “We are just people, of course, so we have to deal with
one thing at a time. We may get married. We may not. Who knows? We don’t.
We’re just taking it as slow as we can.” (p. 36)

THIS ISSUE OF JET MAGAZINE HITS STANDS NATIONWIDE MONDAY, APRIL 6.