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50 Cent: Una Vida de Superación y Éxito en el Hip-Hop

Primeros Años y Vida Temprana

50 Cent, cuyo nombre de nacimiento es Curtis James Jackson III, nació el 6 de julio de 1975 en el barrio de South Jamaica, Queens, Nueva York. Criado por su madre, Sabrina, quien fue traficante de drogas, 50 Cent enfrentó múltiples dificultades desde una temprana edad. Su madre murió cuando él tenía apenas ocho años, dejando a Curtis bajo el cuidado de sus abuelos.

Durante su adolescencia, Jackson cayó en el tráfico de drogas y tuvo numerosos problemas con la ley. Sin embargo, desde joven mostró interés en la música, escribiendo y componiendo sus propios temas.

El Inicio de su Carrera Musical

El camino hacia el estrellato no fue fácil. 50 Cent comenzó su carrera musical en los últimos años de la década de 1990, grabando su primer álbum Power of the Dollar en 2000 para Columbia Records. Sin embargo, el álbum nunca fue lanzado oficialmente debido a un incidente que cambió su vida: 50 Cent recibió nueve disparos en un tiroteo en mayo de 2000. Milagrosamente, sobrevivió y decidió centrarse completamente en su carrera musical.

La Conexión con Eminem y el Éxito de Get Rich or Die Tryin'

Tras recuperarse, 50 Cent llamó la atención de Eminem, quien quedó impresionado por su mixtape Guess Who's Back?. Eminem lo presentó a Dr. Dre, y juntos decidieron firmarlo bajo sus sellos discográficos, Shady Records y Aftermath Entertainment.

En 2003, lanzó su álbum debut Get Rich or Die Tryin', el cual fue un éxito Ver BiograFia Completa

  • Ballin - 50 Cent 4:34

50 Cent - Ballin Lyrics


[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Until God calls for me I'ma keep ballin', keep on ballin'
To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me
I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

[Verse 1: Tony Yayo]
Versace down from my head to my neck
Pootie Tang with the belt game, show some respect
All these bitches on my dick, same, old shit
R.I.P. to Pimp C, I'm the same, old pimp
Fly over seven different time zones
I got a big booty bitch up in shroom zone
Got emergency blunts when I come home
Cause that rapper weed'll have your lungs gone
Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms
Mo' money, mo' problems, fo' fo' will solve 'em
Just every day I'm with a stank sip, 30 in the clip
Riding through that Gaza Strip, kill a nigga quick
Hit a nigga with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart
Rap niggas die over music
[Verse 2: Young Buck]
Just got this brand new chopper and I'm dying to use it
Dry snitching niggas testifying in their music
I seen niggas last five minutes then they lose it
Wrap the sheet around his neck, he said, "this time I couldn't do it"
A platinum nigga in the penitentiary going, "do it"
Put Prada on the prison yard, started getting to it
Two zero's, six, six, nine, 'o seven five
That's the number that they gave me when I arrived
It's just another form of slavery that's in disguise
To all my niggas locked up just trying to survive, I know why

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Until God calls for me I'ma keep ballin', keep on ballin'
To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me
I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

[Verse 3: Kidd Kidd]
I'm yelling money over bitches, money over everything
Money got me everything, every watch, every chain
Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names
I used to hustle taxes, whose child I can claim
Paid all my mama's bills so how can she complain?
Call my bitches dimes, I treat 'em like loose change
Kobe Bryant in the clutch, ballin' with my ankle sprained
No love, got it out the mud, my shirt ain't got a stain
Iced out Rollie, three fingers reppin' Rida Gang
Entire streets in the streets so them hoes know I came
[Verse 4: Lloyd Banks]
Uh, ballin' on these hoes all the time
You got your kids, don't need mine
Word to my favorite design, my mama raised me to shine
These C-notes play in my mind, they on rewind
I am top five alive, I've been picked out by God
I'm never not on my job, too hard to argue that
Shinin' my records like, "where's my target at?"
Came through your stereo, feel me chargin' back
I'm owin' you 15 bombs for that
Stains in the garden, hear when they all go black
Cracks in the armor, this reach further than rap
Before we start react, mob attack
Stacks or don't call me, rain down 'til nobody standin'
Won't show no snipe for your army, uh

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Until God calls for me I'ma keep ballin', keep on ballin'
To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me
I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

Ballin » 50 Cent Letras !!!

Lyrics de: 50 Cent