50 Cent Gunshot Wound -

When he finally stood up, he was a different man. The boy who dodged bullets was gone. In his place was 50 Cent—a scarred, unstoppable revenant with a lisp from a disfigured tongue and a legendary hole in his cheek. He went straight to the studio and recorded “How to Rob.” Then “Ghetto Qu’ran.” Then every track that would become Get Rich or Die Tryin’ .

Blood filled his throat like warm, salty wine. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t scream. He thought, This is it. This is where I die, in a borrowed car on 134th Street. 50 cent gunshot wound

For ten days, he lay in a hospital bed, his face swollen beyond recognition, his jaw wired shut. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t speak, couldn’t rap. But in the dark, with the morphine wearing off, he whispered to himself—a broken, guttural promise: If I walk out of here, they’re gonna have to kill me twice. When he finally stood up, he was a different man