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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

  • Maryland Ass Nigga - 50 Cent 2:57

50 Cent - Maryland Ass Nigga Lyrics


[Intro]
PG County Police, get your hands above your fuckin' heads

[Verse 1: IDK]
Stick a middle-class kid in a bad school and that's me (Hi)
The bad apple that dangled up on the fam's tree
Ballin' to be like 2K, no Raz B
My fruit been forbidden, you niggas ain't gotta ask Eve
The first one in my family to see the
Penitentiary when I shoulda been seein' C's, B's
A's too, mama and Martin just wasn't able
To keep me studyin' history in their teepee
Where the hoes at? (Yeah) And not the navajos (No)
Skippin' Spanish with your bitch like vámonos (Bye)
At night, hit the lick with the toasty toast
Hit the alley, then I hit 12 with the okie-doke (Haha)
You'll never catch me (Hah), you'll never catch me
My description was a 5'9" nigga with mild acne
Ski mask, coat, and boots make me look like a tall athlete
So they lose every time that they thinkin' they 'bout to bag me (Bye)

[Chorus: IDK]
We (Yeah)
We don't give a fuck about you (Right)
Your homie on your block could get it too (Woo)
You little motherfuckers ain't gangster, they know
You (Right)
Don't make me put a hit out on you (Bow, bow, bow)
Don't make me and my niggas come through (Yeah)
You little motherfuckers ain't gangster, they know
[Bridge: Swizz Beatz]
Goddammit
Press your life, how the fuck you feel? (Oh)
I ain't have to do it but I did it still (Woo)
What I'm supposed to do? Call God now? (Right)
What I'm supposed to do? Call God now? (Yeah)
Press your life, how the fuck you feel? (Woo)
I ain't have to do it but I did it still (Oh)
Oh, you actin' hard now? (Oh)
Oh, you actin' hard?

[Verse 2: IDK & Swizz Beatz]
Oh goddamn, yes the hell I am
I'ma run up in your house just to say I can
Tell a ho that I love her when the shit ain't true
When I hit, she my bitch when she think she my boo
That's fucked up, I know, but fuck that, I've grown
I used to hit it in the kitchen when my mama not home
That's messed up, I'm tryna right my wrongs
But I'm sorry, them same wrongs help me write this song
Okay, runnin' halls, runnin' school, runnin' home, run your pockets, gang gang (Oh)
Runnin' church, mama say I don't even pay attention anyway (Real)
After church, call the clique, smoke the spliff, hit the lick, split the shit
Take this check, buy some kicks, man it's it, yeah that's it (Right)
Told my job that I quit, huh, tell the truth, I got fired, huh (Woo)
Boss said I had a warrant, huh, I said, "You a liar," huh
Check my voicemail prior, huh, guess who the shit was from, huh
Third District sayin', "Turn yourself in now 'cause we got the gun" ("'Cause we got the gun")
[Chorus: IDK & Swizz Beatz]
We (Oh)
We don't give a fuck about you (Yeah)
Your homie on your block could get it too
You little motherfuckers ain't gangster (Right), they know
You (Oh)
Don't make me put a hit out on you (Oh)
Don't make me and my niggas come through (Woo)
You little motherfuckers ain't gangster, they know

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Lyrics de: 50 Cent