#1, with a bullet
The truth behind the tales of 50 Cent
BY HUA HSU
Some artists acquire the wisdom to turn their lives around after a brush with
death. Others embrace the darkness, wearing their wounds as a badge of honor
and returning from the experience angrier and more self-righteous than ever.
Queens rap phenom 50 Cent falls into the second category. And his sudden
ascension from controversial novelty act to record-setting hip-hop star owes as
much to the scars on his body as to the devil-may-care passions that inspire
his raps. The tone of his extraordinary debut suggests we could already start
referring to him as "the late 50 Cent."
With Get Rich or Die Tryin' (Shady/Aftermath), the latest
protégé of Dr. Dre and Eminem scored first-week sales of 870,000,
setting a new record for a debut album. And though second-week sales of hip-hop
blockbusters often shrink by half or more, this one maintained its momentum,
moving 820,000 units and holding firm atop the Billboard Top 200. What's
more, the first single, "In da Club," is in heavy rotation on commercial radio
and MTV.
The lurid and very public details of 50 Cent's life make Eminem seem like a
choirboy. His mother, a notorious hustler, passed away when he was eight.
Having started selling crack at the age of 12, he filed in and out of
correctional facilities; then in 1995, the late Jam Master Jay, of Run-DMC,
encouraged him to pursue rap. Although the two would part ways, 50 Cent got
signed by Columbia in 1999. But just as he was gearing up to release his
would-be debut, Power of the Dollar, the controversies surrounding its
first single, "How To Rob," became too much for the label. This gimmicky tale
of all the artists 50 wanted to rob angered established rappers who expected
deference from the cocky upstart; Jay-Z and the Wu-Tang Clan's Ghostface Killah
were two of the high-profile artists who aired their displeasure.
That was the least of 50 Cent's concerns in March of 2000, since he'd just been
stabbed at an NYC recording studio. Two months later, he was ambushed outside
his grandmother's house and shot nine times -- once in the face. During his
recovery, Columbia shelved Power of the Dollar, eventually agreeing to
release him from his contract.
50's brush with mortality didn't tame his wild spirit -- as soon as he was
healthy, he returned to the rap game with an even harder, more desperate world
view. His ready-to-die bitterness fueled hundreds of new tracks that surfaced
on NYC street bootlegs with names like "God's Plan," "Automatic Gunfire," and
"No Mercy, No Fear." 50 Cent and his G-Unit developed a style characterized by
gangsta bravado, spry rhymes, and catchy hooks to go along with the rapper's
larger-than-life story, and suddenly an artist who'd been virtually unknown
before his shooting was the subject of intense bidding. He found a new home,
and a seven-figure deal, with Eminem's Shady imprint.
Although 50's nihilistic outlook is often compared with that of Tupac and the
Notorious B.I.G., his appeal is more in line with the pop crossovers of his new
mentors, Dre and Eminem. Like Dre, he exploits the fascination that's attached
itself to the fear of the black gangsta in popular culture; like Eminem, he
turns out raps with flashes of shocking cruelty. But where even the angry Dre
of old was always part showman, 50 Cent's act sounds alarmingly sincere. And
whereas Em speaks with audacity, 50 lives with it, reveling in the ugliness of
his real-life experiences.
Despite this dim outlook, one of the album's most compelling tracks is one of
its softest. A revealing reprieve from the almost impenetrable wall of guile
and gunplay 50 erects elsewhere, "21 Questions" is built on a string of
hypothetical questions that test the depth of his soulmate's love. He doesn't
just ask whether she loves him back, he wants to know whether she
believes him. "Do you believe me when I tell you you the one I'm
lovin?" In the end, his credibility -- the fact that he wears the proof of his
thug life on his body -- is what sets Get Rich or Die Tryin' apart from
the rest of the rap pack. Beneath his stylish flow there's an unbridled
heartlessness: he doesn't care whether you love him or hate him as long as you
believe him. And more than anything, it's the reality behind 50 Cent's words --
a reality punctuated by the bullet-wound scar beneath his lower lip -- that
accounts for his explosive and unprecedented appeal.
Issue Date: April 4 - 10, 2003
|