50 CENT has sold more than 20 million records worldwide. His record-breaking debut album,
Get Rich or Die Tryin', has sold more than 12 million units worldwide, with the largest debut in SoundScan history, while
The Massacre sold more than 1.14 million copies in its first four days of release. He is the first artist to have four songs in the top ten of
Billboard's Hot 100 since the Beatles in 1964. He published his life's story in the
New York Times bestseller
From Pieces to Weight, hailed as "cool, hard, and vivid, a minor classic of gangster rap noir" (
The New York Times). His business empire includes: a record label (
G-Unit Records, a division of Interscope Records), apparel/footwear ventures (G-Unit Clothing and footwear, joint ventures through the Ecko- Clothing Company and Reebok, respectively), vitamin water (Formula 50, through Glacéau's Vitamin Water), and a watch line (
G-Unit Watches, through Jacob & Co.). His future plans include his most prized project: the nonprofit organization The
G-Unity Foundation, which aims to better the life of urban youth.
ONE
As I hustled down the granite steps of Richardson Hall, it felt like the sun was shining brighter and the air smelled a little sweeter. My five-year stay at the University of Pennsylvania had finally come to a close.
College had always come easy to me, even though I wasn't really focused on what I should have been. I spent most of the time quenching my thirst for women instead of paying attention to my studies. I bet if you tested me on secrets to making a chick cum, I'd probably score a 99. As a result, my grades in college weren't stellar, but my experiences were priceless.
My mom was so excited that she almost swiped the curb as she pulled up. I knew that as soon as I hopped in the car, I'd be bombarded with the life questions. I'll be damned if that wasn't the first thing she brought up.
"Playtime is over now, honey...I hope you have a plan for what you are going to do with the rest of your life."
"How did I know that was going to be the first thing out of your mouth? Can I just enjoy the moment for once?" I asked.
Before she could respond, I decided to spill my intentions so she didn't start harassing me like some evil stepmother.
"My plan is to do the army thing for a few years and then head straight to law school so I can start making that Johnnie Cochran money."
"You would make a great lawyer, son," she said. "You have spent enough time talking those good girls out of their innocence. I'm sure you won't have too much trouble with a jury."
I guess she ignored the fact that I got my manipulative ways from her. We both thought that the world was one step behind us.
There was heavy traffic on the way home. The trip usually took about two hours, but it ended up being close to three and a half this time. I didn't mind because we got a chance to bond and reminisce about the good ol' days.
We drove up to the front of the infamous split-level home -- the nabe's party house -- on the corner and I was surprised to see that there were only a few cars outside. My whole family had left my graduation early, but I thought everybody was going back to our house afterward. I was disappointed because I was looking forward to spending time with my folks.
I reluctantly opened up the front door and about thirty people yelled, "Congratulations!" I had a smile on my face from ear to ear despite the fact that I hated surprises. I briefly glanced at the dining room table and spotted a vast assortment of my favorite liquors, so I knew that it was going to be a long night.
My girl greeted me with a kiss and handed me another hefty bag of graduation gifts. I remember thinking, Hell with the gifts, pass me a cold beer and a double shot. I had a lot of love for her because she always took care of me. It didn't hurt that she was a brown-skinned, model-looking broad with long black hair and an ass that would make you do a triple take. Plenty dudes tried to wife her up back in the day, including me, but she wouldn't holla at me because she claimed I was a whore. I used to tell her that whores get paid for their services. I was different because I knocked down chicks for free.
Then years later, I ran into her at the West Mall off of Paxton Boulevard. I told myself at that moment she'd be my number one. I had no problem pushing every other female I had on my roster to the bench. I was used to juggling three, four, and five women at a time, but none of them ever compared to Tara.
I waltzed to the dining room table and poured myself a healthy shot of Patrón as I headed out back to the patio. I knew all my boys were out there because I heard them from outside, disturbing the peace as usual. As soon as I made my way out of the door, Dre staggered my way to give me a hug and almost stumbled to the ground. He was a real skinny dude who stood about six feet five inches, with arms that probably could reach his knees when he stood straight up. If you gave him just a few drinks, though, he'd be kissing the floor in no time.
The other goons I ran with growing up were there, too. My best friend Kevin, Fat Chris, and Joey, had all shown up. We called ourselves "the League" and that's how we were known around town. Harrisburg is a relatively small city nestled between Pittsburgh and Philly, but that didn't stop us planting our seeds from New York to Florida. I surely wouldn't be surprised if one or two of us had a few bastards running around somewhere. We prided ourselves on doing anything that we pleased, regardless of who it offended. That's probably why we were hated by many and loved by few -- unless you were female, of course. All of us had conflicting personalities, but we hung together because of the one thing we had in common -- chasing women. None of us ever discriminated, either. If you had a phat ass, one of us was going to try you. It didn't matter if a chick looked like Rosie O'Donnell; somebody was still going to seize the moment. After all, it all looks and feels the same when the lights go out. At least that was how we used to justify sleeping with a beast.
"You know we're getting fucked up tonight, dog," Kev said.
"Yeah, and we ain't trying to hear that 'going back to college' shit because class is over, nigga," added Bum.
The binge drinking had begun.
"Stop talking and pour me another shot," I said. "I'll drink every one of y'all niggas under the table."
After killing about twenty shots of liquor and close to forty beers between us, we started making a lot of noise, so my mom got upset.
My house was the spot where we'd set up shop every weekend. It didn't matter whether it was a party or an orgy, she always felt better if we did it at the crib. She worried less knowing we were all safe, and being there also prevented us from drinking and driving, something that we did way too often.
We kept the party going until she couldn't take it anymore.
"D.J., y'all gonna have to take all that rowdy shit somewhere else," she hollered out of the kitchen window.
It was obvious that we had worn out our welcome. No matter, though, it was time for a change of scenery anyway, so we took the party to the streets.
Copyright © 2008 by G-Unit Books, Inc.
