The 50th Law - 50 Cent [41]
The old model, tight and static, had been exploded, and now Curtis moved into the breach with some new-colored capsules he packaged and sold to the fiends. Sometimes he included in the sales some free capsules, which happened to be the drugs he had accumulated from the robberies. The fiends began to flock to him, while the other hustlers were too upset to notice the trick that had been played. By the time they had figured it out, it was too late. Curtis had expanded his business and he was well on his way to buying his freedom.
Several years later, Curtis (now known as 50 Cent) had carved out a path towards a career as a rapper. He had a deal with Columbia Records and the future looked reasonably bright. But Fifty was not one to be duped by the usual dreams. He quickly saw that there was only so much room for the top performers who could bank on a solid career in this business. He, along with everyone else, was fighting for crumbs of attention; the artists might get temporary success with a hit here or there, but it wouldn’t last, and they had no power to alter the dynamic. What was worse, Fifty had made some enemies in the business—he was an ambitious hustler with talent. There were people who mistrusted and feared him. They worked behind the scenes to make sure he would not get far in the industry.
As Fifty had learned, talent and good intentions are never enough in this world; you need to be fearless and strategic. When you face people’s indifference or outright hostility you have to get aggressive and push them out of your way by any means necessary, and not worry about some people disliking you. In this case he looked for any opportunity to make such a bold move, and one evening a chance encounter provided this for him.
At a club in Manhattan, Fifty was talking with a friend from the neighborhood when he saw the rapper Ja Rule staring in his direction. Several weeks before, Fifty’s friend had robbed Ja Rule of some jewelry in broad daylight; Fifty expected Ja to come over and cause some trouble. Instead he looked away and decided to ignore them. This was rather shocking. Ja Rule was then one of the hottest rappers in the business; he had built his reputation on being a gangsta from Southside Queens, his lyrics reflecting his tough-guy image. He and his record label, Murder Inc., had allied themselves with Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff, former head of the Supreme Team, a gang that had dominated the New York drug business in the 1980s with its ruthless tactics. Supreme gave them street credibility, and Murder Inc. gave Supreme an entrée into the music business, something legitimate to distance himself from his dark past.
No real hustler or gangsta would ever ignore the man who had robbed him so brazenly. What this meant to Fifty was that Ja was fake, his lyrics and image all a show to make money. He was arrogant yet insecure. As he contemplated this, the idea for a masterful setup took shape in his mind, one that would draw attention and help catapult him past all of those who stood in his way.
In the weeks to come Fifty began releasing diss tracks that took aim at Ja Rule, painting him as a studio gangsta who rapped about things that he had never experienced. Ja must have been annoyed but he did not respond to Fifty’s taunts. He was clearly too big to concern himself