Jackson was born and raised in South Jamaica, a neighborhood in the New York City borough of Queens. His mother Sabrina, a drug dealer, died in a fire when he was 8. Since his father had already abandoned the family, young Curtis was sent to live with his grandparents. Growing up during the crack epidemic of the 80s and 90s, Jackson dealt drugs when he wasn't "killing time" at school or boxing at a local gym. His grandparents assumed he was at after-school programs when he was out selling crack. In tenth grade, Jackson was caught with guns and drug money passing through the metal detectors at Andrew Jackson High School in Queens. In 1994, Jackson was arrested again for selling vials of cocaine to an undercover officer, and three weeks later he was arrested yet-again after police found heroin, crack cocaine, and a starter pistol in his home. Jackson was sentenced to 3 to 9 years in prison, but opted to join a 6 month boot camp program and get his GED. Around this time, Jackson began going by "50 Cent," inspired by deceased Brooklyn stick-up man Kelvin "50 Cent" Martin.
After leaving drug dealing to pursue a rap career, he released his debut album Guess Who's Back Again in 2002. He was discovered by Eminem and Dr. Dre and then signed to Interscope Records. He has since released Get Rich or Die Tryin' (2003), The Massacre (2006), Curtis (2007) and Before I Self Destruct (2009).
50 Cent has engaged in feuds with other rappers including Jay-Z, Ja Rule, The Game, Cam'ron, Fat Joe, and Rick Ross. He has also pursued an acting career, appearing in the semi-autobiographical film Get Rich or Die Tryin' in 2005, the Iraq War film Home of the Brave in 2006, and Righteous Kill in 2008. 50 Cent is one of the richest hip-hop performers, having a net worth estimated at US $440 million in 2008.
Before 50 Cent ever inked a major deal, he built up a substantial fan base in New York through underground mixtapes. 50 Cent met up with Jam Master Jay of Run-DMC and was signed to his label to write all of Jay’s music. After he’d left JMJ, he signed to Columbia Records in 1996. On this label, he released Power of the Dollar, and the singles How to Rob and Ghetto Qua Ran. Columbia Records released him from the label after being shot on May 24th, 2000.
Around this time, Eminem had heard one of 50 Cent’s demo tapes and expressed a huge interest in him on MTV, as did Dr. Dre. Shortly after this, 50 Cent officially signed to Interscope Records. He was the first rapper to sign to the joint label owned by Dr. Dre and Eminem. The first song he released on this record was entitled Wanksta and was featured on the 8 Mile soundtrack.
In its first week of release, his debut ”Get Rich Or Die Tryin’” sold 872,000 units - easily reaching Gold status. Within the second week it went Platinum (1 mil) and on April 12th, 2004 the RIAA certified it six times Platinum.
In 2005 he followed the success of his album Get Rich or Die Tryin’ with a new release - The Massacre (originally called St. Valentines Day Massacre until the release date was pushed back). The first single released off this, Disco Inferno, was a huge hit - he followed this hit up by the release of Candy Shop and then again with Just a Lil Bit.
In 2003 Interscope Records allowed 50 Cent to have his own label - G-Unit Records. He first signed Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo and Young Buck as the established members of G-Unit Records. In 2004, Dr. Dre and 50 Cent had signed The Game under a joint venture.
The Realist
50 Cent Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Is that 50 Cent/Pac joint ready?
Let me know, holla
There's gon' be some stuff you gon' see
That's gon' make it hard to smile in the future
Yeah nigga! Ha ha
2Pac cut his head bald
Then you wanna cut yo' head bald (You pussy nigga!)
2Pac wear a bandana
You wan' wear a bandana
2Pac put a cross on his back
You wanna put crosses on yo' back
Nigga you ain't 2Pac, this 2Pac!
Is it, money or women to funny beginnings, tragic endings
I can make a million and still not get enough of spending
And since my life is based on sinnin', I'm hell bound
Rather be buried than be worried, livin' held down
My game plan to be trained and, military
Mind of a Thug Lord, sittin' in the cemetery
Caught, I've been lost since my adolescence, callin to Jesus
Ballin' as a youngster, wonderin' if he sees us
Young black male, crack sales got me three strikes
Livin' in jail, this is hell, enemies die
Wonder when we all pass is anybody listenin?
Got my, hands on my semi shotty, everybody's bitchin'
Please God can you understand me, bless my family
Guide us all, before we fall into insanity
I make it a point, to make my peep bumpin' warlike
Drop some shit, to any stupid bitches don't fight
'Til Makaveli returns, it's All Eyez On Me
(What do we have here now?)
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
(Ohh)
You shoulda listened, I told you not to fuck with me
(What do we have here now?)
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see
Now since you're cryin' for mercy I promise
My success'll be the death of you
Lo and behold you sold your soul
Nigga there's nuttin' left of you
Look in the mirror, ask yourself who are you?
If you don't know who you are, how could your dreams come true?
Motherfucker, I sat back and watched
You pretended to be 'Pac, you pretended to be hot
But you're not (Now) I see it so clear
You can't take the pressure, you pussy
I warned you not to push me
You see me and chills run up your spine
Hardly even in the same war, but your heart ain't like mine
Press, they look at me like I'm a menace
I was playin' with guns
While your momma had your punk ass playin' tennis
I'm a nightmare, you see me when you dream
Wake up, turn on your TV and see my ass again
You cowardly hearted, you couldn't make it on your own
Fuck The Source, I'm on cover of Rolling Stone
(You pussy!)
'Til Makaveli returns, it's All Eyez On Me
(What do we have here now?)
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
(Ohh)
You shoulda listened, I told you not to fuck with me
(What do we have here now?)
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see
G-G-G-G-Unit!
'Til Makaveli returns, it's All Eyez On Me
(What do we have here now?)
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
(Ohh)
You shoulda listened, I told you not to fuck with me
(What do we have here now?)
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see
The song "The Realist" is a collaboration between 50 Cent and samples the verses of the late rapper Tupac Shakur. The song's opening verse by 50 Cent boasts of his influence in rap and the respect he commands as he asks Redd Spyder if the Tupac-50 Cent collaboration is ready. The lyrics in the song refer to the rivalry between 50 Cent and Tupac's legacy, and how some rappers try to imitate the style of Tupac in their music. In the first two verses, 50 Cent highlights the similarities in fashion and styles of other rappers and Tupac. He accuses other rappers of trying to copy Tupac to sell a few more records, but they don't have the same realness as Tupac. The hook of the song repeats the line "’Til Makaveli returns, it's All Eyez On Me" (referencing Tupac's posthumous album) while warning other rappers to not mess with 50 Cent.
The third verse is from Tupac's original "All Eyez On Me" track, which he recorded before he died, and is sampled in this song. In Tupac's verse, he stresses his commitment to his lifestyle of sinning and his fearlessness of hell. He expresses his disillusionment with society and his desire to ball as a youngster, and talks about his struggles with life in jail. He mentions about wondering if God sees them, even as young black men who were tarnished with the stigma of crack sales. He fantasizes about shooting his enemies with a semi-automatic shotgun while urging God to bless his family, and then he ends the verse with a call for his people to be warlike and not to back down from fights.
Line by Line Meaning
Yo Redd Spyder (ooh-wee)
Opening statement, asking if a song is ready
There's gon' be some stuff you gon' see
That's gon' make it hard to smile in the future
The future will be painful, filled with trauma and drama.
2Pac cut his head bald
Then you wanna cut yo' head bald (You pussy nigga!)
2Pac wear a bandana
You wan' wear a bandana
2Pac put a cross on his back
You wanna put crosses on yo' back
Nigga you ain't 2Pac, this 2Pac!
The rapper calling out copycats and posers trying to imitate the late Tupac with their actions and looks
Is it, money or women to funny beginnings, tragic endings
I can make a million and still not get enough of spending
And since my life is based on sinnin', I'm hell bound
Rather be buried than be worried, livin' held down
My game plan to be trained and, military
Mind of a Thug Lord, sittin' in the cemetery
Caught, I've been lost since my adolescence, callin to Jesus
Ballin' as a youngster, wonderin' if he sees us
Young black male, crack sales got me three strikes
Livin' in jail, this is hell, enemies die
Wonder when we all pass is anybody listenin?
Got my, hands on my semi shotty, everybody's bitchin'
Please God can you understand me, bless my family
Guide us all, before we fall into insanity
I make it a point, to make my peep bumpin' warlike
Drop some shit, to any stupid bitches don't fight
A reflection of his past and the consequences of his actions while trying to live a life of success and freedom
'Til Makaveli returns, it's All Eyez On Me
(What do we have here now?)
And you can hate it or love it, but that's what it's gon' be
(Ohh)
You shoulda listened, I told you not to fuck with me
(What do we have here now?)
Now can you take the pressure, that's what we gon' see
Referencing Tupac's posthumous album and warning listeners to beware of his lyrically aggressive style and competitiveness
Now since you're cryin' for mercy, I promise
My success'll be the death of you
Lo and behold you sold your soul
Nigga's there's nuttin' left of you
Look in the mirror, ask yourself who are you?
If you don't know who you are, how could your dreams come true?
Motherfucker, I sat back and watched
You pretended to be 'Pac, you pretended to be hot
But you're not (Now) I see it so clear
You can't take the pressure, you pussy
I warned you not to push me
You see me and chills run up your spine
Hardly even in the same war, but your heart ain't like mine
Press, they look at me like I'm a menace
I was playin' with guns
While your momma had your punk ass playin' tennis
I'm a nightmare, you see me when you dream
Wake up, turn on your TV and see my ass again
You cowardly hearted, you couldn't make it on your own
Fuck The Source, I'm on cover of Rolling Stone
(You pussy!)
Taunting copycats and posers who try to emulate Tupac's legacy, highlighting the rapper's own success, and disrespecting other publications and rappers
G-G-G-G-Unit!
Closing statement of the song, a reference to 50 Cent's rap collective
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Written by: DELMAR DREW ARNAUD, CALVIN BROADUS, RUFUS COOPER, KATARI COX, MIKE DEAN, YAFEU A FULA, JAMES HARRIS III, CURTIS JACKSON, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, BRAD JORDAN, TERRY LEWIS, JOSEPH PAQUETTE, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR, ANDY THELUSMA, BRUCE WASHINGTON, TYRONE J WRICE
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@anacarolina4830
I love niggas! I love niggas!
Cause niggas are me!
And I should only love that 'presents me
I love to see niggas go through changes (Whoooo!!)
I love to see niggas shoot through shit (Did it again)
And to all niggas that do it I love
To all my Brooklyn (Niggas!)
To all my Uptown (You niggas understand?!)
To all my Bronx (It's war nigga)
To all my Queensbridge (I'll blow you away)
Back up chump, you know Biggie Smalls grips it quick
And kicks it quick, you know how black niggas get
With the hoods fatigues with the boots with trees
Smokin weed, flippin ki's, makin crazy G's
Hittin' buckshots at niggas that open spots
On the avenue, take my loot, and I'm baggin you
Pimpin hoes that drive Volvo's and Rodeos
Flash the Roll, make her wet, in her pantyhose
Damn, a nigga style is unorthodox
Grip the glock, when I walk down the crowded blocks
Just in case a nigga wanna act out
I just black out, and blow they motherfuckin back out
That's real
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
When we smoke spliffs, we pack four-fifths
Just in case dread wanna riff
He get a free lift to the cemetary, rough very
Not your ordinary, we watch you get buried
That's a real nigga for ya
Get mad do a quarter flip the script, and rip your lawyer
Spit at the D.A. cause fuck what she say
She don't give a fuck about your ass anyway
Up North found first stop Watertown
Of fist-skill, where the hand skills are real ill
You'll be a super Hoover doo-doo stain remover
Ha hahhh, yo Chief, pass the Buddha
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
When I was young my M.O. was to go hand-to-hand
And even my P.O. she called me the Ginger Bread Man
I catch a new case, and tell her ass "catch me if you can"
Don't let your people fill you up wit octane I'm not playing
Get gassed up to get blast up
Real B.I.G. style watch the kid break it down
Check it, thou shalt not fuck wit North C. Papa
50 Cent, I'll break yo ass off propa'
There's no place like home, New York - New York
I run this city, I don't dance around like Diddy
Niggas is giddy, till they act smack silly
Or spray wit the Mack Milly, they don't want drama really
Pussy niggas get hard lip syncing my lyrics like Milly Vanilly
Even the hood they feel me {*gun cocked*} hah! I'm on fire!
Niggas out in Philly they feel me, they bump my shit
Every bootlegger you know, bump my shit, bitch!
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
Don't try to act like you don't feel a nigga
Biggie yo nigga, 50 yo nigga
Squeeze the trigga' leave a nigga fa' sho!
@originalJoeKing
The white girls singing the hook in White Chicks! 😂😂😂
@XxkindalikethisxX
ssjsskskskskskskksskskskksksskskssskskskskskskkskskss
@louietorres4363
@Ghita Florin Nigga!
@Mocha-Bottle
Yep lol
@rurueyad8711
😂😂😂 I came from it
@user-we1xk9gd9q
So…. Nobody’s around
@shannarahanna7785
I knew this song was fire when my pastor forgot to turn off his phone during Bible study and this was his ring tone.
@itsjemmabond
Get out of here! Are you being serious?!
@shannarahanna7785
@itsjemmabond Yes 😭😭
@dmitrilightsey3097
OMG!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣