The year was 2004, and 50 Cent was at the height of his reign. His sophomore album The Massacre was on the verge of breaking records, G-Unit was a dominant force in the industry, and every rapper who even

looked sideways at 50 risked being buried under an avalanche of bars, interviews, and industry blackballing.

But then came “New York”—a song by Ja Rule featuring Fat Joe and Jadakiss.

In 50’s mind, anyone who stood next to his sworn enemy Ja Rule had just declared war. It didn’t matter if it was for a hook, a verse, or even a handshake—guilt by association was enough to make you a target.

“That’s not music beef,” 50 explained in interviews. “That’s real street stuff. That don’t die.”

So when he heard New York, he didn’t just get mad—he got surgical. On Piggy Bank, a diss track that appeared on The Massacre, 50 took aim at everyone on Ja Rule’s side: Fat Joe, Jadakiss, and anyone else

breathing the same studio air.

But here’s where it got different.

Jadakiss wasn’t just another name.

He wasn’t a one-hit-wonder. He wasn’t a studio gangster. He wasn’t a rapper who got famous off cosigns and controversy. Jadakiss was Yonkers. He was the streets. And he was lyrically dangerous.

While 50 mocked Fat Joe’s record sales and dismissed him entirely, he admitted something subtle—but important—about Jada: he could rap.

“He had put out some things on you,” a host reminded 50 during a later interview.

“Yeah… he can really rap,” 50 replied.

That moment of acknowledgment was rare. And it was telling.

Because on March 9th, 2005, just days after 50 dropped Piggy Bank, Jadakiss hit back harder than anyone expected.

The track? Checkmate.

The beat? 50’s own.

The result? Legendary.

“You did it baby, congratulations homie, you made history

1.1 million in a short week

Screw a press conference, press this on your conscience…”

Then he hit him with:

“Since when has it become cool to get shot and not shoot back?”

“You ain’t get shot again yet, so what’s your second album about?”

“You had to get shot nine times to get rich?”

This wasn’t just a diss track—it was a clinic in psychological warfare. He flipped 50’s own narrative, mocked his trauma, and made fans re-evaluate everything they thought they knew about the G-Unit general.

The streets ate it up. Checkmate charted, got radio spins, and proved that Jada wasn’t backing down. In fact, he was just getting started.

Then came Problem Child, featuring Styles P, another lyrical beatdown with zero chill. While 50 was used to people folding under pressure, the LOX doubled down. And then, they made it personal.

Jadakiss called 50 a coward, said he was all talk, and that he’d never survive in Yonkers without security.

So what did 50 do?

He pulled up to D-Block Studios.

Alone.

No entourage. No security. Just him.

Let that sink in.

50 Cent, at the peak of his fame, rolled into his enemy’s hood to prove he wasn’t scared of anyone. That move—more than any verse or diss—earned Jada’s respect. They talked. They smoked. They chilled. And just

like that, the war was over.

But don’t get it twisted: the war may have ended, but the lessons remained.

Jadakiss had just done something few rappers ever managed. He stood toe-to-toe with 50 Cent at the height of his power, hit back harder than expected, and walked away stronger than ever. No career collapse. No

blackballing. Just bars.

Even 50 Cent later admitted on Big Boy’s show:

“Certain things he said landed… I heard it and I was like, ‘Oh yeah.’”

He didn’t have to say more. Because in that moment, he did something he rarely ever did during beefs:

He acknowledged defeat.

Jada wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t chasing clout or crying to the press. He was moving with strategy, precision, and respect for the culture. Even when he dissed 50, it wasn’t out of hate—it was chess.

Years later, 50 would bring Jadakiss out during his Final Lap tour as a surprise guest. That was more than a peace treaty. That was a nod of respect from one general to another.

And let’s not forget: Jada went on to dominate the Verzuz stage, solidifying his spot as one of the best to ever touch a mic. Meanwhile, many of 50’s former rivals were either forgotten or finished.

So why didn’t Jadakiss fear 50 Cent?

Because he never needed to.

He had his own army. His own code. And most importantly, his own mic skills to defend his legacy.

And when the smoke cleared, Jada didn’t just survive the fire—he walked out holding the torch.