Collect Call From... 50 Cent

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Day 1
September 29, 2:06 p.m.
50 rings us from Detroit, where he’s enjoying a working sleepover with BFF Eminem.

“It’s been a long day, man. Last night I was up late on the phone with Scott Storch, mixing my new album. Then I woke up all groggy-eyed at 6:45 to catch my flight to Detroit. No jet this time—I flew commercial. I look at an airplane like a taxi: As long as it gets me where I need to be, I’ll sit my ass in coach. On the plane, I was finishing a screenplay I’ve been writing, inspired by one of my old lawyers. He was a sociopath. I have consultants helping me with the legal terms, but otherwise it’s all me.

“Today Em and I spent the day in the studio. Dre sent us a bunch of beats, so we’re just going through them all, ­picking out who wants what. Now I’m chilling at Em’s house. I stay here  whenever I’m in Detroit. I got my own room and everything. Em, come say hello to Blender! He’s in the other room right now. Maybe later.

“It’s good to hang out with him—the last time I saw him was about a month ago, when I was shooting a movie with Val Kilmer and Sharon Stone. But we communicate on the phone a few times a week. When you’re as successful as I am, it’s tough to have a real friend relationship—everyone lets you get away with being an asshole, ’cause you got money. But when I’m being an asshole, Em will call me an asshole. That’s a good friend.”


DAY 2
September 30, 2:05 p.m.
50 calls from the Palace of Auburn Hills, home of the Detroit Pistons, where he just finished a shootaround with the team.

“Check this out: I’m with Em at the Pistons’ training camp! He tore his meniscus a while ago, so he’s been ­working out with their strength coach, getting back in shape. He’s cool now—we just played one-on-one. I murdered him. He tried to blame his knee, but I think it had more to do with my ­crossover.

“I shot around with the team a little. How’d I do? King of the schoolyard, baby! Just don’t tell Rip Hamilton I said that. Ha! But really, I’m better at boxing. I’m a southpaw—my left hook is like a lesson from Jesus.

“Last night me and Em watched the Mosley fight from Saturday—he had it TiVo’d. Mosley won in the last second of the 12th round. But I was already asleep on the couch.

“Hey, you know this kid [Rodney] Stuckey on the Pistons? He look just like me! They told me earlier and I didn’t believe them, but it’s true. It’s unusual to meet someone who resembles you so much. We took a picture together. Now the next time some shit pops off in the club, I can just say, ‘Hey, it wasn’t me—it was Stuckey!’”