He’s the bulletproof bully of hip-hop who turned surviving nine gunshots into a billion-dollar empire, and now 50 Cent is detonating the biggest bomb rap has ever seen.

In a jaw-dropping, hour-long Instagram Live that crashed the app twice and racked up 47 million views in under 24 hours, Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson has finally ripped the lid off the lie that destroyed rap’s greatest friendship and left two legends bleeding in the street.

“Tupac and Biggie weren’t enemies,” 50 declared, eyes blazing, a half-smoked blunt dangling from his fingers. “They were brothers. Pac was Big’s mentor. He gave him the entire blueprint. Told him exactly who to sign with. And then the industry set them up to kill each other for record sales. Straight up corporate assassination.”

Cue the internet exploding harder than the Las Vegas strip on the night Tupac took his final breath.

For three decades we’ve been spoon-fed the fairy tale: East Coast vs West Coast. Bad Boy vs Death Row. Biggie vs Tupac. A “beef” so toxic it ended with both men murdered six months apart in 1997.

But according to 50 Cent, who says he got the gospel straight from the mouths of OG’s who were in the room when it all went down, the entire war was manufactured by bloodsucking executives in corner offices who saw dollar signs in division.

And last night, Fif named names.

THE MENTOR AND THE PROTÉGÉ: THE FRIENDSHIP THEY BURIED

It started in 1993, when a 22-year-old Christopher Wallace (still going by Biggie Smalls back then) was a chubby, wide-eyed Brooklyn hustler with a demo tape and zero connections.

Enter 22-year-old Tupac Shakur, already a rising star off Juice and Poetic Justice, rolling through New York like rap royalty.

“Pac saw something in Big immediately,” 50 revealed. “Took him under his wing like a big brother. Showed him how to move, how to dress, how to carry himself in rooms full of sharks. Pac even told Biggie, ‘Yo, you gotta get with Puffy. That nigga got the marketing machine. I’m out here on Death Row with Suge, but you? Bad Boy is your lane.’”

Yes, you read that right. Tupac Shakur, the man later painted as Biggie’s mortal enemy, personally told him to sign with Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs.

And Biggie listened.

QUAD STUDIOS: THE NIGHT THE DEVIL WALKED IN

November 30, 1994. Quad Recording Studios, Times Square.

Biggie, Puffy, and Lil’ Cease are upstairs laying down tracks. Tupac, hoping to squash any lingering tension, rolls up unannounced with his entourage to show love.

What happened next changed everything.

As Pac stepped into the lobby with just three people (no security, no guns), six masked men ambushed him, shot him five times, robbed him of $40,000 in jewellery, and left him for dead.

Miraculously, Tupac dragged himself into the elevator, bleeding from the head and groin, and came face-to-face with Biggie and Puffy staring down at him.

“Big looked shocked,” 50 claims, quoting sources who were in the room. “He reached out like he wanted to help, but Puffy pulled him back. Pac never forgot that look. That’s when the seed got planted: ‘Did my own people set me up?’”

The streets immediately whispered that Biggie and Puff had advance knowledge. Rumours flew that they were smirking as Pac bled. Biggie’s crew allegedly laughed about it later.

None of it was true, says 50.

“But the damage was done. And certain executives saw blood in the water.”

THE SUITS SMELL MONEY

Enter the real villains, according to 50 Cent: record label executives who realised a “coast war” could sell millions.

“These were the same white dudes in suits who couldn’t tell Biggie from Big Pun, but they knew drama = dollars,” 50 raged. “They started leaking stories to The Source, Vibe, whoever would print it. ‘Death Row vs Bad Boy.’ ‘Tupac dissed Biggie.’ Half the quotes weren’t even real. They paid publicists to fan the flames. Paid radio DJs to play it up. Turned a robbery into World War III.”

Then came the dis tracks.

Tupac, fresh out of prison on sexual assault charges (charges many still believe were a set-up themselves), signed to Death Row and dropped “Hit ‘Em Up” in 1996, the most vicious diss record in history, claiming he slept with Biggie’s wife Faith Evans and threatening to wipe out all of Bad Boy.

Biggie, under insane pressure from his label, responded with subtle jabs on “Long Kiss Goodnight” and Jay-Z’s “Brooklyn’s Finest.”

The world ate it up.

Albums flew off shelves. Magazine sales tripled. Death Row and Bad Boy both posted their highest profits ever.

And somewhere, in boardrooms overlooking Manhattan, executives toasted with champagne while two 25-year-olds were marked for death.

THE FINAL ACT: LAS VEGAS & L.A.

September 7, 1996. Tupac is gunned down in a drive-by after the Mike Tyson fight. Dies six days later.

March 9, 1997. Biggie is killed in an identical drive-by after the Soul Train Awards in Los Angeles.

Both cases remain officially unsolved.

But 50 Cent says the answers were never on the streets; they were in the corporate offices.

“They didn’t pull the triggers,” he said, voice dropping to a chilling whisper, “but they loaded the guns. They made it profitable to kill them. Once Pac and Big were gone, the ‘war’ ended overnight. Funny how that works.”

THE AFTERMATH: EMPIRE OF LIES

In the 28 years since, the myth has only grown.

Diddy (once Puffy) built a billion-dollar brand off Biggie’s ghost. Suge Knight rots in prison, still swearing he had nothing to do with either murder. Faith Evans wrote bestsellers. Documentaries made millions.

And the suits? They retired to the Hamptons with fat pensions.

Meanwhile, two mothers buried their boys.

50 CENT’S FINAL WARNING

As the Live ended, 50 leaned into the camera, gold teeth flashing, eyes dead serious.

“I’m telling y’all this because the same industry that killed Pac and Big is still operating the exact same way in 2025. They’ll turn brothers into enemies for a streaming check. They’ll leak your address for engagement. I lived it. I got shot nine times because of the same energy.

“Don’t let them do it again.”

He then dropped the mic, literally, and the screen cut to black.

THE INTERNET IS STILL ON FIRE

Within minutes #PacMentoredBig was the No.1 worldwide trend. Old clips resurfaced of Tupac praising Biggie in 1993 interviews. Faith Evans posted, then quickly deleted, a broken-heart emoji. Diddy went silent on all platforms for the first time in years.

Even Snoop Dogg, Pac’s closest Death Row brother, went live looking shaken: “If what 50 saying is true… man, that changes everything.”

And in a moment that sent chills across the internet, Tupac’s own brother Mopreme Shakur posted a single tweet:

“Some truths take 30 years to surface. Respect to 50 for having the balls to say it.”

As the sun rises on another day in hip-hop, one thing is crystal clear: the story we thought we knew about Tupac and Biggie wasn’t a street war.

It was the coldest, most calculated corporate hit job in music history.

And nearly three decades later, 50 Cent just pulled the trigger on the real killers.

Rest in peace to the two kings who never wanted to fight each other.

And shame on the suits who made them die for it.