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PICTURE the scene. Mike Tyson is having a quiet night in, surrounded by his children. As the family gathers round to admire his new facial tattoo, his 13-year-old daughter puts on her favourite new CD by rapper 50 Cent and dad duly hits the roof. The thuggish newcomer may be set to become the biggest rap artist ever, but his glamorised cocktail of drugs, guns and violence is now officially banned in the Tyson household, and thousands of others across America.

It's something to do with 50 Cent's abusive and scarily honest lyrics: "I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped, love to squeeze gats/I love to hit the block, love my two Glocks, love to bust shots", is typical. What's even more disturbing is that unlike Eminem, whose violent lyrics are generally fantasies, 50 Cent bases his lyrics firmly on experience.

At a time of concern about gun culture-crack gangs and black-on- black murders, there are some who feel that 50 Cent's music is a negative influence on young men. Nevertheless, he's the most successful new rapper in history, selling almost two million copies of his acclaimed debut album in less than two weeks.

50 Cent's popularity is nothing short of amazing. Two weeks ago, his debut album entered the US Billboard chart at number one, selling more than the rest of the top ten put together. It also looks set to top the UK charts, while his single, In Da Club, is on heavy rotation on a wide variety of radio shows and stations. "I've never seen anything like this in my life," says Tim Westwood, host of the Radio 1 Rap Show. "This is unprecedented. It's happened almost overnight." But how did he do it? "He wasn't created by anyone," says Westwood. "He created that demand himself by making and selling a couple of hundred thousand of his own tapes."

"His flow stands out," says Dan Greenpeace, who presents the All City Show on XFM. "And when you combine that with the fact that there wasn't an outlet for his records, he built a big demand." 50 Cent also has originality, songs that work on the dancefloor, a record deal with Eminem's label and the patronage of Dr Dre, one of the most influential and respected producers in the music industry.

BUT rap is different from other kinds of music and entertainment. Most importantly for his credibility in that scene, he has the life story to back up the image. Tim Westwood sums up his appeal: "Guys on the street like a thug. Ladies love a thug. And 50 Cent is the real thing." Like Mike Tyson, 50 Cent had a tough upbringing on New York's streets. He was born Curtis Jackson 26 years ago, to a 15-year-old mother who sold crack cocaine for a living.

She was murdered when he was eight.

By the age of 12, young Curtis, who never knew his father, was already involved in the drug business, hiding crack in his school- gym shoes. By his mid-teens, he was a well-known dealer in his neighbourhood and it wasn't long before he was spending "every other summer in jail". Late last year, the 26-year-old was stabbed twice, then shot nine times two months later. The alleged gunman was murdered shortly afterwards. No one has so far been charged with the crime.

There has always been a macho side to rap. Bearing in mind the humiliating second-class citizenship that continued for black Americans into the late Sixties, the sense of empowerment that rap gave young black men was clearly important. In the same way, the Blaxploitation movies of the Seventies were a step forward. Black men were finally allowed to carry guns, have sex, and play the roles of violent action heroes.

Although, by today's standards, the movies were simplistic, they were seen by many as an example of progress after decades in which black actors had generally been confined to roles as servants or grovelling chauffeurs. This was similar to hip hop's "gangsta" period in the late Eighties and early Nineties. During that time, the notorious NWA (Niggaz With Attitude) lit the touchpaper for an explosion of violent tales of ghetto life.

But rap never stood still. The natural heir to the musical traditions of gospel, the blues, jazz and soul, rap became a powerful tool for reflecting the black American experience. In those days, rappers often used to explain violent lyrics by saying that they were simply "reporting from the front line of the ghetto". But the message in 50 Cent's music is not apologetic or even touched by remorse - it revels in the brutality of it all. He seems to say: "I sell crack, and I've made a lot of money doing it. I have guns. The fact that I've been shot is proof that I'm tough, and I'll kill anyone who gets in my way."

50 Cent may be viewed as a poet and a great talent, but what has made him a star is the fact that he's a genuine criminal. Although few in the music scene would agree with Kim Howells and David Blunkett in the connection they made between rap and gun crime, it's increasingly difficult to defend 50 Cent when he is at pains to point out that what he says is to be taken seriously.

Raymond Enisuoh, of New Nation, a newspaper aimed at the black community, believes rappers such as 50 Cent must take responsibility for the influence their lyrics have. "Millions of youngsters over the world look up to them, dress like them, and hang on every word they say. This affects black youth in Britain because so many of them look to the US for inspiration. 50 Cent brags about having been shot, which can make youngsters feel that it's cool to be in that environment."

The UK's once-notorious So Solid Crew recently spoke out against guns and hinted that they may turn their backs on the lyrical gunplay that used to characterise their music. A noble gesture, but they may well be fighting a losing battle, as Tim Westwood confirms: "Rap has suddenly gone back to being thug, gangster, street music. And it's all down to 50 Cent."

His new album Get Rich or Die Tryin' (Polydor) is on sale now.