The young rapper hails from the birthplace of gangsta rap, Compton, California. But this is a new Westside story, one that joins with the Eastside and pays respects to rap's hardcore pioneers of the '80s, NWA. The Game, a former gangbanger who turned to rap after being shot five times and left for dead, is about peace not war. Working closely with Dr. Dre on his debut album; This Game is for real. The Documentary, the debut album from The Game, announces the arrival of the most significant West Coast gangsta rapper since Snoop Dogg. The Documentary resurrects the truth, spirit and hope of hardcore rap with guest spots from 50 Cent and Nate Dogg, and production from Dr. Dre, Kanye West and Just Blaze. "A lot of rap today is bubblegum that says nothing and means nothing to anybody living in the 'hood," says the 24-year-old with a tattoo of NWA's Eazy-E on his right forearm. "I'm not knocking anybody's hustle but I can't feel what's in hip-hop today. Everybody's rapping but they're not saying anything. NWA, Biggie, 2Pac, Snoop and Jay-Z all had something to say then Biggie, Pac and Eazy died and it was devastating. We almost let rap die until the Great White Hype (Eminem) saved hip-hop and 50 dropped the gangsta wake-up call. I feel like it's my turn now and I can fill the shoes."
What all three have in common is the guiding hand of Dr. Dre, Compton's own and one of the founding members of NWA. "The best moment I've had in rap was walking into his studio in 2002 and Dre saying he heard a mix tape of my freestyles and wanted to sign me," says Game. "Trying to act cool? I was frozen. I'm still starstruck with Dre. He's been almost 20 years at the top. That I get to soak up the game from a musical genius like him gives me a 20-year head start on everybody else. He's like the father I never had. Everything about a father throwing a baseball to his son in the suburbs, that's what NWA was to me. They were the only role models I had besides Michael Jordan. Eazy was the father of hardcore and I don't understand why he only gets honorable mention when people talk about rap."
Game's beloved grandmother nicknamed him Game because he was always game for anything--basketball, running track, riding bikes, playing in the streets. Family problems caused him to be placed in a foster home from the third grade to the ninth grade. "My childhood was messed up but it wasn't really that different from anyone else who lived in the 'hood," he says. Soon after he was returned to his mother, one of his older brothers, Jevon, was shot and killed. The Game then started running behind another older brother, Big Fase 100, who had been taken in by the Cedar Block Piru Bloods, even though they grew up in a Crip neighborhood called Santana Block on Compton's East Side. Fase tried to keep him away from thuggin', but once it became clear that Game was going to be there, his brother was determined to teach him how to survive on the streets.
After graduating high school in 1999, an older adopted brother, Charles, was shot and killed. "People don't know what type of toll that takes on your life," he says. "Especially being young and just fresh out in the world." A one-time star shooting guard for Compton High School who was offered scholarships to various colleges, the 6-foot-4 Game now started gangbangin' hard--car thefts, drug dealing and shootings. Finding him too much to handle, his mother kicked him out of her house.
In 2000, The Game and his brother moved into the projects in a nearby city and took over its drug trade. Their success attracted rivals. Late on the night of October 1, 2001, Game was alone in their apartment when there was a knock on the door. Game became victim to a home invasion. "That was the biggest learning experience ever in my life. This sounds crazy but I appreciate that happening to me, because I'd probably be dead if it didn't. Anybody who gets shot and survives feels lucky. On the other hand I went through so much already that I felt somebody owed me. Now I could live out my dreams." He sent his brother to buy new copies of all the classic rap albums, East Coast and West Coast -- Dre's The Chronic, Big's Ready To Die, Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt, Ice Cube's Death Certificate, Snoop's Doggystyle, 2Pac's All Eyez On Me, every Kool G Rap record, and anything from NWA. He studied them carefully over the next five months. In December 2001, he rapped for the first time. "I mixed everybody's style into one. That's why some people feel that I sound like I'm from the East Coast even though I rap about the West Coast."
He also hopes the purpose of the graphic nature of The Documentary doesn't get twisted. "I'm telling my story. I'm out to please no one but myself. I'm not telling anybody to sell drugs or pick up guns. When I sold drugs it was because it was my last resort, because I had four sisters and an older brother and we were eating Cheerios on Thanksgiving. When I picked up a gun, it was because my life was threatened. If you don't want to hear that; then don't listen. I'm not glorifying the life I lived because I wouldn't wish that on anybody. I'm just one human being raised in the 'hood who wanted nothing more than to get out." His sole regret is that his grandmother passed away before she could see his success not just in rap but in life. In summer 2003, Game became a father for the first time, to son Harlem Caron Taylor. He says the best moment he's ever experienced was watching his son's mother give birth: "That was some next level sh*t. I've never been so happy. I wanted to bring him into the world so much that I was going, 'Come on!'"
There's more than anger in this next generation NWA. There's pride and even optimism for the future. "I gave all I could to this album, it's me. Enjoy it because it's the last time I'm living it. As humans we grow and the next album will be about how I'm living now--and I'm loving life."
Game Calls His First Onscreen Sex Scene 'Rough And Rugged'
'Millionaire Boys Club' loosely based on rapper's own life. With a lineup like one the G-Unit has, 50 can't be the only doughboy, so after his breakup and makeup with the crew, the Game is on his way to the silver screen.
Game's movie debut, "The Millionaire Boys Club," is expected out this summer, and the rapper hopes to follow that up with a role opposite an Oscar winner.
"The Millionaire Boys Club" is loosely based on the Compton, California, native's life and was written and directed by Cess Silvera of the cult indie film "Shottas," which featured Wyclef Jean and Tyson Beckford. Along with Game (playing himself under the name "G"), Bryce Wilson of "Beauty Shop" and Michael K. Williams of "The Wire" also have lead roles. And not to be outdone by 50's sexy "Candy Shop" video, "G" shares a super sexy love scene with Shari Headley.
"She was in 'The Johnson Family Vacation,' and before that it was 'Coming to America,' " Game explained. "She was real, real, real, real fun to work with. It was my first sex scene. It wasn't real sensual, it was kind of rough and rugged."
To follow up his "Boys" debut, the Left Coast rapper is in talks to co-star with Oscar winner Hilary Swank in a horror film titled "The Reaping" in which a woman who debunks supernatural occurrences (Swank) goes to a small Texas town to investigate what appear to be biblical plagues.
As for that little misunderstanding with 50, it was "not really a remarriage but a kind of a parting ways and settling our differences" thing, Game explained (see "50 Cent And The Game Call A Truce"). "I'm still going my way. It's still Aftermath. I'm working on blowing my imprint [Black Wall Street] up, and I've got the help of [Interscope boss] Jimmy Iovine and Dr. Dre with that."
The Game: Out Of The Shadows
The Game knows it really doesn't matter who in the industry vouched for him. It could have been Eminem, Dr. Dre, 50 Cent, whoever. What's going to make him is the unconditional street love he's been given by kids from New York to Compton. And tonight, he has to maintain it.
On Sundays, Speed is the undisputed wildest club in New York, the place where the wolves and murder mamis come out and sweat all night. Grown and sexy is barred. Patrons come prepared to dance and howl and, since the quarters are so cramped, they will be pushed, stepped on and — if something breaks out — pounded out. On any given week you'll see anyone from Jay-Z to the LOX to Lil Jon to 50 Cent performing there. Tonight people start lining up at 8:45 p.m. just to see Game, who won't go on until 1:45 a.m. He recognizes the love and wants to give back ... everything.
"These new rap n---as ain't sh--," he yells about an hour into the set. "All n---as want is bitches, cars, money, weed, chains. That sh-- don't mean nothing to me, I'm a real n---a!
"F--- this coat," he continues, taking off his newly bought $1,000 leather Pelle Pelle jacket and throwing it into the crowd, which closes in like a pack of lions on a steak.
Game then does the unthinkable. He yells, "F--- this chain," and flings out not only that piece of gold jewelry, but also his gold N.W.A medallion attached to it — the same medallion we've seen him proudly sport like a badge of honor in all his publicity photos and at so many of his public appearances. The same $20,000 medallion given to him by his close friend Baron Davis of the New Orleans Hornets.
The next day on New York radio station Hot 97, Game, who literally left Speed topless after giving the shirt off his back to his fans, says his generosity was not some ultra-flossing stunt: He was baring his soul. He wanted to prove to people that he's in rap for the love, not for the riches.
In Compton, California, just days prior to the Speed show, he explained, "I'm so compelled and so compassionate when it comes to hip-hop now. I'm just now starting to develop a relationship, not only a relationship, but a love for hip-hop. Hip-hop is just not a rap form to express yourself. Hip-hop is a way of life. Black people, white people, Asians, Indians, green, blue, purple, you name it. Hip-hop is the biggest influence on the human life to date, believe that."
Game looks to pioneers like Kool G Rap, N.W.A, Jay-Z, Nas, Biggie, Tupac and Big Daddy Kane as the culture's most important and influential voices, and if the MC hopes to earn a spot alongside them some day, he's gotten off on the right foot. He was one of the most consistent and glorified artists on the mixtape circuit in 2004, and not even a full month into 2005 he's graduated to mainstream success. His album, The Documentary, sold more than 586,000 copies its first week, according to SoundScan, to debut at #1 on the Billboard albums chart.
"I think it's interesting to see how they'll embrace the record since he's coming from the West Coast," 50 Cent, who co-executive produced The Documentary, says about his G-Unit squad member. "What I been trying to do is diversify the perception and the vibe of G-Unit. This is another artist who speaks about another environment, being from Los Angeles, but he's aggressive also."
Aggressive and accepted. While his affiliation with the crew that sells the most records in the music industry has obviously gotten mainstream consumers to listen to him, he's accepted because they can feel every bit of anger in his tone, they believe him when he says he was selling rocks "when Master P was going 'ugh.' " The people on the streets see Game as a reflection of themselves. They know he's lived everything he's talking about, and they can literally see he has the scars to prove it.
"I got stabbed right here, I had to get 26 stitches," Game, sitting on his porch in Compton, says while displaying one of the battle scars on his bicep. "Then I got hit in the face with a baseball bat during a gang fight. I got like eight stitches right there [above my right eye]."
Being stabbed, taking a baseball bat to the face ... Game would have been lucky if these were the worst of his injuries. Most of Game's visible wounds, however, come from a night in November 2001 when most everyone knew him as Jayceon Taylor. One night he found himself lying face down on his stomach in a small puddle of blood saying his prayers. Eleven gunshots were let off in his "spot" by three gunmen. Several shots barely missed him as they whizzed through the air. Five, though, made contact. One ripped off a piece of his chest, one landed in his stomach, and another — one of the only bullets he actually felt — struck his leg, bringing him crashing to the floor as he tried to run down his hallway and get away.
Defenseless, he was prepared for what seemed like the inevitable: One of the gunmen would come and shoot him, execution-style, in the back of the head. As he began to make his peace with the Lord and await his demise, Jayceon saw his entire life play out in his mind like a movie. He saw his grandmother giving him the nickname that would serve as his stage moniker; he saw his mother teaching him how to ride a bike; he saw his father punching his mother, causing her to fall over a bed; he saw the birth of his sister.
What literally seemed like a lifetime turned out to be between 10 and 15 minutes. At the end of that time Game suddenly realized that the gunmen who tried to kill him had simply disappeared into the night.
"By the time I turned over ... they were gone," Game recalls. "So I crawled into the bathroom, I lifted myself onto the bathroom sink and I remember turning on the light switch and looking up. My wife-beater [white tank top] was blood-red, like the same color as this red shirt I have on now. I pulled it up to see where I was hit, and blood shot all over the mirror. I fell down in the corner from disbelief. I took the phone off my hip, called 911 and gave them my address and told them where I was at, and by the time I finished telling the story I woke up in the hospital with IVs in my arm a day and a half later."
Game, his brother Big Fase Hunned and a close friend of the family ran a dope spot out of an apartment located in Bellflower, California, on the outskirts of Compton, for about a year.
"My brother, he's more of a routine guy," Game says. "He's got a certain way, there's rules for everything. Like Biggie said, 'Ten Crack Commandments.' There's just things that you do and things that you don't do. Me, I've always been somebody that likes to challenge the rules a little bit."
One of his brother's rules was to close down the spot by midnight. Game, who was in the house by himself on that fateful night, saw things differently. He was playing "John Madden Football" on PlayStation 2 at about 2 a.m. when he got a knock at the door from one of his regular customers.
In pursuit of some fast loot, he opened the door; not only did his regular start shooting, but two more men rushed the door. Two out of three of Game's assailants were armed. The one that didn't have a weapon ran for Game's pistol, which was lying nearby.
"He saw my gun and saw an opportunity to get it. I kind of felt that I could beat him to it so I got up off the ground and I ran," Game says. "He ended up getting to the gun first, so I dove on him like Ray Lewis. This is my life about to end right here, so I dove on him. We ended up rolling on the floor, tussling for the gun, and believe it or not, I started to ease the gun out of his hand while his man is pointing. He can't shoot because we rolling, tussling and he might hit his man, he might hit me, who knows. So he don't shoot."
One, or more, of the guys did eventually shoot at Game, leaving him in a coma for almost two days. Still, once he recovered, Game didn't initially want to change his lifestyle. While he eventually scored a record deal with Dr. Dre and left his drug-dealing alone (though he was still slinging for a short period after he was signed), he hasn't left the 'hood behind.
In Compton, less than a week before The Documentary, 2005's first "most-anticipated album of the year," hits stores, he's hanging out. Game is in front of one of his favorite spots, Smitty's Liquor on the West Side of Compton, surrounded by Crips and fellow members of his gang, the Bloods. All of them are in his clique, Black Wall Street. "Yeah man, we blending," Game says of his flanking squad, mostly made up of men from two gangs that have historically been at war, but who have found common ground in their support of Game and pursuit of better lives. "It's 'Black Wall Street.' It's not 'Red Wall Street,' it ain't 'Blue Wall Street,' it's 'Black Wall Street.' If you see the cover of Vibe this month, I got on a real controversial T-shirt: It's a Blood and a Crip shaking hands, both [blue and red] rags tied around the wrist."
Surrounded by his crew, Game tries to explain how his violence-infused upbringing has informed his harsh and heartrending view of life on the streets.
"I didn't want to get out the game," Game remembers about the aftermath of getting shot. "I appreciated life more, but I didn't want to stop what I was doing, because I was having fun. Some people don't know. We don't have no other choice, so we develop the love for it. When a child grows up in this type of environment, and the older role models aren't really role models ... it's normal to be a gangbanger here. Don't nobody have a problem out here with being a gangbanger. Don't nobody out here have a problem with killing or shooting to defend themselves or save their own lives."
Game's ties to gangbanging existed from birth. Although he eventually followed his brother Big Fase Hunned into the Bloods, his mother was a Hoover Crip and his father and deceased older brother, Javon, were affiliated with the Nutty Block Crips.
"I seen my moms doing her thing," Game thinks back. "I seen my dad and my moms load guns together, take guns apart together. Smoke together, drink together and have good times. [I seen them] go out and do drive-bys. My mom is a hustler. My moms ain't ever have no working job and neither did my father."
Game's older brother Javon, while involved in gangs as well, got himself a record deal when he was 17. Game, who was 13, looked up to his brother and was shattered when Javon was shot at a gas station. He got into a dispute with a man over a girl.
"I remember going to the hospital, Martin Luther King right here in Compton," Game recalls, now sitting on the porch of the house he owns. "We went to the hospital to see my brother and I was crying. I was 13 years old, frightened, thought I was going to lose my brother. He was just so alive and so strong and he was like, 'Yeah, when I get out of here we gonna spend so much time together and it's gonna be me and you and Fase. We gonna do it right like real brothers supposed to do.' "
Shortly after Game left the hospital, he got the call telling him that his brother passed away.
"My dad wasn't really there for us like he should have been," says Game, a few tears flowing down his face. "I think ultimately that led to my brother's murder. I really felt that if my dad was in our life a little bit more, then, you know, my brother would probably still be here. We'd probably be doing something even more positive than rap. 'Cause rap ain't always the most positive thing, and rap leads to deaths ... B.I.G., Tupac. I think about that every day when I look in my son's eyes. It's enough to make a grown man cry, you know. I think about the things that I say or the things that I have said and I think like, 'Damn.' "
Game stoically offers that he's been to more funerals (17 in all) than he's been to actual church services. He talks about the loss of his best friend, Chuck, who was murdered in 1999, and his other homie Billboard, a.k.a. Four Cent, an aspiring rapper down with Black Wall Street who was killed last summer. As an homage, Game tattooed the name "Chuck" on his right hand and has a tattoo of Billboard on his left arm. All the death he's seen has him numb to worrying about his own fate.
"No, nah, dying is something that I'm pretty [comfortable] with," he says. "What I am scared of — and not really scared, it's more like a tiny fear — is that I won't get to accomplish all the things that I would have wanted to before death comes knocking at my door. So that's why I'm everywhere and all over everything. I won't miss an interview, I don't miss a radio spot, I'm on time, I gotta be everywhere. I want to say that I did it all. I'm trying to clear off my warrant so I can get my passport so I could go over to Europe with Snoop. I got the big Snoop tour coming in February and then I want to go around the world. I want to be one of those guys who could tell my son about Amsterdam and about France and tell him how it is. How the people are in New York. Not only tell him, but take him to those places."
For the past couple of years, though, the most likely place to find the scowling rap slayer has been in the studio. In 2001, while healing from his gunshot wounds, he couldn't do much of anything but lay in bed, watch BET, play PlayStation and listen to rap music. He studied such seminal albums as Jay-Z's Reasonable Doubt and Notorious B.I.G.'s Ready to Die. Inspired, he began to write rhymes that he admits were initially wack. He caught on quick, though, developing skills.
Game hooked up with Bay Area rapper JT the Bigga Figga for a short stint and put out his first mixtape, Untold Story. He then ventured out for a major deal, but found little success. Eventually P. Diddy became interested, and Game almost signed with Bad Boy. But then Dr. Dre heard one of his street tapes and called. You know the rest.
"I opted for Aftermath since Dre was from Compton, I'm from Compton, you know ... I'll keep the whole N.W.A legacy going," he explains. "That's where I wanted to be.
"Dr. Dre, he got his own way, his order of operations that he likes to have," he says about working in the studio with the Doc. "And he had the successes of Snoop Dogg, then Eminem, then 50 Cent, then myself coming up, batting cleanup. He got the magic, man. At the end of the day, I wouldn't be nothing without Dre's beats. Without Dre's tutelage and him mentoring me for the last two-and-a-half years we wouldn't be standing out here doing this interview and I'd probably be part of the crowd and somebody else would be talking to you."
At Speed, though, like plenty of other places he's been performing, it's clear that Game has come out of the shadows and into his own.
He performs "Hate It or Love It" and "How We Do" — minus 50 — to close out the show.
"Ja Rule can ..." he yells out as the beat for "How We Do" starts off.
The crowd answers with: "... Suck my d---!"
Names like Irv Gotti, Ashanti, Joe Budden and Benzino follow, with the same call-and-response before the entire audience starts rapping the actual lyrics to the song.
"This ... is ... how ... we ... do!" they all yell.
The Game - The Documentary
Even without all the accompanying hype, The Game would still be a guest on his own album. Factory-equipped with a near-death experience he won't let you forget (he was shot five times in a drug deal gone bad) and the suddenly irresponsible ears of Dr. Dre, The Game is the Great Hope of West Coast gangstas and the jettisoned, er, protege of 50 Cent. But built for wax? MTV is more like it.
You can moan all you want about how The Game would be nothing without the army behind him, but that would be conceding that he gets far with such help. It certainly aids him in the publicity department, but there is nothing to suggest that any effort went into making 'The Documentary' the best it could possibly be. Dre was able to elevate Eminem because Em had the ability to take the show with him. At the time, 50 Cent was the damn-the-glocs hoodlum behind 'Wanksta', fantasizing about robbing rappers 10 times his persona who entranced the world with his own near-death experience. You wanted to know more, no matter how many dollar bills were stacked and ready to buy some airplay.
But there's nothing to The Game other than Fiddy, Dre, and Em. They all back him -- or did, until 50 dumped him from G-Unit on a New York radio show in February (editors note: the rift is now, apparently, over) -- ably until met with the bullet(in): production only gets you so far. It's enough to feel sorry for him, like that scene in 'Ford Fairlane' where Wayne Newton, not knowing a microphone's in front of him, brags that his record company's latest "sensation" is nothing but a disposable marketing ploy. And that's where you have to go to find analogies for The Game: an Andrew Dice Clay flop.
So let's start the funeral by remembering the good times, though few they are. The one indisputably essential moment on 'The Documentary' is 'Like Father, Like Son', where Game celebrates life via the birth of his son. He's not a master of metaphor, so detailing his hospital experience (a nervous sickness, cutting the cord) instantly humanizes him and washes away the 17 tracks that precede it. It's reality, something, despite his criminal past, he has trouble conjuring. Second best is 'Hate It Or Love It' featuring 50 Cent (and also appearing on 50's latest), which succeeds on its slow-funk sample. The lyrics are cookie-cutter gangsta tribute, but both rappers sink into the groove and hide their individual flaws (laziness, being unexceptional).
'Church For Thugs' is the kind of rave-up that bounces with enough old-school bump that even the most inexperienced lyricist couldn't f*ck it up. But after that, Dre's textbook G-funk undresses the producer and unveils perhaps why he can't finish his own album. Kanye West provides an eerie roll behind 'Dreams', but The Game isn't on the same page.
What handicaps him is an utter lack of ideas or a complete unreadiness for a full album. Aside from his lacklustre flow, he's completely hung-up on those he surrounds himself with and a belief that he can join his heroes simply by referencing them. Dre is namechecked endlessly (including the 'Forgot about Dre' theme from 'Chronic 2001'), as are Eazy-E, Snoop, Timbaland, Usher and an indeterminate number of East and West Coasters. He knows his history. We know the history. It's what he doesn't do with this knowledge that ruins 'The Documentary'.
The Game's the name
THE SUN BRAVELY FACES TOUGH RAPPER WITH FAKE Q&A
Straight outta Compton, there's a new Game in town. Jayceon Taylor, aka The Game, is the latest hardcore rapper to emerge from the notorious Los Angeles County city that spawned the West Coast gangsta rap scene.
His debut album, The Documentary, was produced by Dr. Dre, Kanye West, Eminem and Timbaland, some of the hottest producers in the business. It hit the top of the charts immediately upon release in January and has sold over a million copies.
He also made headlines in recent weeks for his feud with friend and fellow rapper 50 Cent, who kicked The Game out of his G-Unit posse for sticking up for Fitty's enemies.
When the smoke cleared a member of 50's entourage was shot -- allegedly by one of The Game's friends -- but the two rappers have since kissed and made up.
They have more than music in common.
Fitty is famous for being shot nine times, while The Game, a former drug dealer, had five bullets removed from his body after a 2001 home invasion.
Taylor came through the ordeal and began rapping. His demo got into the hands of N.W.A. founder/producer Dr. Dre, who quickly took the young thug under his wing, signing him to a deal and hooking him up with Fitty, Eminem, Busta Rhymes and Mary J. Blige, who all appear on The Documentary's 18 tracks of cartoonish violent imagery and stories about his life.
Taylor was too busy to talk to The Sun, so we scrambled this interview together using lyrics from the album.
And Taylor if you read this, don't hurt us. We're just having fun.
How did you and Dr. Dre hook up?
Dre found me in the slums selling that skunk, one hand on my gun.
How long were you rapping before you two met?
I been rapping for one year, one month, 17 days, 13 hours, 28 minutes, then I met Dre 30 minutes after I bought the new Em, that was November 18, 3:09 p.m.
Wow, you keep good stats. What was it like working with a legend like Dr. Dre?
Workin' with Dr. Dre was a dream. I had visions of makin' a classic then my world turned black like I was starin' outta Stevie Wonder's glasses. It's kind hard to imagine, like Kanye West coming back from a fatal accident to beat makin' and rappin'. But we da future Whitney Houston told me that. It's gonna take more than a bullet in the heart to hold me back.
Why did you get shot? Was anyone ever arrested?
I got shot over two pounds of weed. Still ain't found them.
How close were you to dying?
I was two beeps away from a flat line. I came back from the dead without a part of my chest laid in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest.
So your stories about gang life are true?
Gangbangin' is real, homie, I'm livin' proof ... Believe you me, homie, I know all 'bout losses, I'm from Compton where the wrong colours be caustic.
Sounds scary. Compton is home to two of the country's most notorious street gangs. Whose side were you on?
Whether I'm a Crip or Blood homie that's irrelevant, I'm the D.O.C.
You're pretty tough, huh?
Keep jibberin' jabberin' I'll pull a .38 Magnum and get the clickin' and clackin'. Your homies will wanna know what happened, come to Compton and see Thriller like Mike Jackson.
All right then. I'll watch my step. You got some strong feelings about Michael Jackson don't you?
They accusing Michael of touchin' kids in the wrong places. At first they embraced them (then he) had a couple of facelifts now people wanna place him with murderers and rapists.
Let's get back to music, where do you see yourself in the rap world?
I'm in a class all by myself like the brown Eminem ... I'm going three times platinum dawg, how do I stop? I'm hot.
You sure are. What does your mom think about your success?
My mom's happy she ain't gotta pay the rent and she got a red bow on that brand new Benz.
I'm kind of broke right now, could I borrow a few bucks?
I got a family to feed, I'm the middle of nine children. We can talk about a loan after I sell five million.
Congratulations on being a father by the way. How does that feel?
"I seen hell staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson, my son's ultrasound the closest I ever been to heaven.
That's pretty sweet. I guess you do have a soft side. Would you do anything different if you could?
If I could start my life from scratch if I could take away the pain off my past. If I had another chance I would do just that I'd give anything just to go right back.
Wouldn't we all. Thanks for writing some lyrics we could use to make up this story. See you at the show. What's it going to be like?
I'll be on top as soon as the beat drop, I'll make the whole club rock.
50 Cent & The Game Make Amends
Rapper 50 Cent, Dr. Walter Turnbull and rapper The Game make an appearance at the Schomburg Center For Research in Black Culture to announce they will put their differences aside and make amends on March 9, 2005 in New York City.
The rappers agreed to make amends in response to a shooting that took place on Feb. 28 in front of the building that houses the radio station WQHT-FM, Hot 97. Gunfire was alledgedly exchanged between the two rappers’ entourages as result of 50 Cent's public announcement to drop the Game from his G-Unit clique.
Rappers 50 Cent and The Game have decided to put their differences aside and try to set a better example for the rap community. Verbal exchanges allegedly led to a shooting earlier this month outside a New York radio station. A member of The Game's crew was shot and wounded while 50 Cent was making an appearance at the station. 50 Cent reportedly announced on the air that he was "kicking The Game out of his clique." Interscope Records released a joint press release, in which 50 Cent said, "I'm launching a new foundation, the G-Unity Foundation, Inc., to help people overcome obstacles and make a change for the better in their lives - to help them overcome their situations. I realized that if I'm going to be effective at that, I have to overcome some of my own. Game and I need to set an example in the community." The Game added, "I see this as a real opportunity to show the power of our community. 50 and I are proving that real situations and real problems can be solved with real talk. This can also be seen as a big step for my organization, Black Wall Street, in terms of making a difference. Maybe we can help save some lives - the way rap music saved mine."
Gangsta rappers 50 Cent and The Game call a truce
Perhaps selling 1.1 million copies of his new album in four days has softened the heart of 50 Cent. Or maybe he has so many feuds going, he can afford to let one go. On Wednesday, 50 Cent and The Game publicly squashed a bitter feud that had erupted into gunfire last week after 50 kicked Game out of his G-Unit clique for disloyalty.
The two platinum-selling gangsta rappers didn't exactly kiss and make up. When they emerged before a media throng at Harlem's famed Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, both looked as if they'd been shoved into apologies by a stern mother.
But they did shake hands, albeit at the end of the press conference, after speaking about contrition and the need for peace.
50 noted that Wednesday was the anniversary of the unsolved murder of Biggie Smalls in 1997, the culmination of a rap war between Biggie and Tupac Shakur that pitted East Coast against West.
"We're here today to show that people can rise above the most difficult circumstances and together we can put negativity behind us," said 50, a native New Yorker. "A lot of people don't want to see it happen, but we're responding to the two most important groups, our family and our fans."
"I just want to apologize on behalf of myself and 50," said Game, who's from the Los Angeles suburb of Compton. "I'm almost ashamed to have participated in the things that happened in the last couple of weeks."
50 presented an oversized check for $150,000 to the Boys Choir of Harlem. Game donated $103,500. It was not clear why Game chose that amount or whether he had been reinstated in G-Unit; no questions were taken at the press conference. The Game also made a contribution to the Compton schools music program.
Is the truce sincere?
"Of course it was genuine," said hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, who was at the event. "They stood on stage together."
At the very least, it was a remarkable concession for rappers who routinely brag about killing their enemies.
"It is the first time we've seen 50 publicly take a step back" from a battle, said Elliott Wilson, editor in chief of the hip-hop magazine XXL.
In a statement earlier Wednesday, 50 Cent said: "I'm launching a new foundation, the G-Unity Foundation, Inc., to help people overcome obstacles and make a chance for the better in their lives ... to help them overcome their situations. I realized that if I'm going to be effective at that, I have to overcome some of my own. Game and I need to set an example in the community."
50 Cent has always set an example - usually as an unapologetic criminal gleefully wreaking havoc on other rappers. He almost single-handedly dismantled the multi-platinum career of Ja Rule by relentlessly targeting him in songs, magazines and his 2003 debut, the eight-million selling "Get Rich or Die Tryin'."
Last week 50 released his sophomore CD, "The Massacre," which including a song attacking rappers like Fat Joe, Nas and Jadakiss for making a record with Ja Rule. But his beef with Game was unusual because it involved a member of his own camp.
As 50 was on the radio announcing the expulsion of Game from G-Unit - apparently because Game wouldn't turn his back on some of 50s many enemies - Game's crew rolled up to the station. Guns were fired outside the building and a member of Game's posse was wounded. No one has been arrested in the shooting.
Game is a protege of superproducer Dr. Dre, who put Eminem on the map, who in turn made 50 Cent a superstar. They're all on the same parent label, Interscope Records.
Those relationships probably played a hand in Wednesday's reconciliation.
"It's pressure for 50 to look at it from a business perspective and not a personal perspective," Elliott said. "I think the press conference was forced by the mainstream media's reaction to the incident. They don't benefit on a business level to be associated with violence."
Could the whole thing have been a publicity stunt for two rappers with albums in stores now?
Elliott doesn't buy it. "There really was a beef. I think there was a genuine conflict that 50 felt The Game was unappreciative of all the work he did on his album ... and Game is feeling like, 'I'm my own man now.'"
But the two have apparently decided that they have more to lose going against each other.
"I think (50) will continue to beef with other artists," Elliott said. "But to beef with your own artist and someone who you're in business with, it doesn't help you."