GET RICH
OR DIE
TRYIN’.

A brief scene-setter rather than a conventional song. The atmosphere says plenty before 50 even starts rapping.

One of hip-hop’s great album openers. The beat is stripped down and unforgiving; 50’s voice supplies the intimidation. No elaborate welcome, no attempt to win over doubters. This is the mixtape phenomenon walking straight through the front door of a major-label debut.

A showcase for the partnership that made the industry pay attention. Eminem’s verse brings intensity and technical detail; 50 counters with control and presence. A strong collaboration, even if our 4DK score puts other cuts ahead of it.

The masterpiece within the masterpiece. 50 takes fear, mortality, resentment and survival and turns them into something cinematic without sacrificing emotional weight. The hook lingers, the verses reveal more with each listen, and the song gives the album its deepest human dimension. Our pick for the best song here.

Few singles announce an era this immediately. Dre’s beat, the instantly recognizable opening and 50’s easy command of a club record made it an enormous hit. But cultural size and personal track ranking are not the same thing: a 9.6 recognizes its brilliance without automatically placing it above “Many Men.”

That hypnotic, dark, slightly detached energy is pure early 50. It is not trying to be the next radio single; it builds the album’s world. Exactly the kind of deep cut that separates a truly great album from a collection of hits.

Cold-blooded minimalism. The beat’s gunshot-like percussion and 50’s matter-of-fact delivery make the track feel tense from start to finish. This is not a record that needs a giant chorus to make its point.

Explosive, defiant and built for maximum replay. 50’s confidence rides perfectly over the production. It sounds like a victory lap from somebody who has barely begun his first official album campaign.

A hard-edged early look at the G-Unit chemistry that would soon become an empire. Buck brings a different texture without disrupting the album’s identity.

Disrespectful, direct and devastatingly effective. The Ja Rule feud gives it historical context, but the reason the record lasts is the execution: 50 sounds completely unbothered while delivering one attack after another. Classic Fif, and one of our three perfect scores.

The breezy instrumental and 50’s effortless hook made this a huge crossover moment. It is clever, instantly identifiable and important to the album’s reach. For 4DK, though, the stronger street records and deeper writing rank higher.

More swagger than revelation, but it matters to the texture of the record. Yayo’s presence also keeps the G-Unit story visible inside what is ostensibly 50’s solo breakthrough.

50’s relationship with money is never just about luxury. The title alone hints at the contradiction: success changes the circumstances, but not automatically the mentality formed before it.

The clearest proof that vulnerability and commercial appeal could coexist in 50’s sound. Nate Dogg’s hook is essential; 50 asks whether affection survives when the money and status disappear. It broadened his audience without sounding like a different rapper.

A tense three-voice showcase. Banks gives the track a sharp G-Unit edge, Eminem adds urgency, and 50 anchors it in the worldview established throughout the album.

A fitting close to the main album sequence. After so much bravado, the title returns us to the stakes behind the persona: ambition, survival and uncertainty about what comes next.

One of the key bridges between mixtape 50 and mass-market 50. The taunting tone, hook and attitude show why listeners were invested before the debut landed.

Mixtape Fif in full effect. The edge, delivery and dismissive confidence make this one of the essential overlooked cuts. A 9.6 is our way of giving the underground DNA its due.

A reminder that 50’s pre-superstar identity was already fully formed. Its placement as a bonus track only reinforces how deep the catalog behind this breakthrough really was.