An Ode to Clifford Harris
An Ode To T.I.P.As I log on and check my email, Smoke a blunt and sit a spell;Take a pull, choke, cough then exhale.I scroll down click my fan club post.What do I see, T.I. vs. T.I.P.Asking Grand Hustle lovers coast 2 coast.To express Mil-lions of O-pini-ons.You can even hate or boast On the topic of which persona you respect the most.Well from my perspective, this is what it is.The best lyrics come from the best lyricist.And from where I sit, at the bottom of the shit list.I rather hear passion and concern from a soul that could have burned.T.I. can learn to keep a tight lip, even though we all know T.I.P. keeps a tight clip.Cause when T.I.P. comes off top, T.I. gets the blame.T.I.P. is the fire from which fuels T.I.'s flame. T.I.P. taught T.I. the game.So underneath of all your glitz glamour and fame. Still lies that same country hustle Nigga from which T.I. came.