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SOME cunning people live two lives, but 26-year-old Curtis (50 Cent) Jackson has lived nine and is working on his tenth.

1st life

There is, to begin with, Curtis Jackson, the only son of 15-year-old Sabrina Jackson, one of the biggest, most feared drug dealers in Queens. "My mother was tough," he says. But she also spoiled him rotten. Being Sabrina's offspring earned him a ferocious street credibility from birth and a bevy of riches that rivaled that of some of the wealthiest blueblood children in faraway suburbia.

2nd life

There's Curtis, the halo-wearing tyke who was the apple of his grandmother's eye--"I was my grandmother's baby," he jokes--who was forced to live with his grandparents after his mother was drugged and killed when he was 8 years old.

3rd life

There's Curtis the wayward 10th grader, who found himself on juvenile probation after he was busted for dealing drugs. Curtis, who had been dealing since he was 12 years old, would later drop out of high school.

4th life

There's Curtis, aka Boo-Boo, the 18-year-old amateur boxer (who earned his GED behind bars) and later emerged as the Southside Queens-area Scarface. Boo Boo operated profitable drug houses that netted him $150,000 a month, and true to gangster form, he wore priceless jewelry, drove a fleet of expensive cars, and systematically set up and/or robbed his crack-dealing competitors without breaking a sweat. "I'm not ashamed of that," he says now. "[At the time] hustling seemed like the only option."

5th life

There's Curtis, the doting father of his 6-year-old son, Marquise, who made a life-altering decision to leave drugs alone for good and to focus instead on making music. "50 Cent is a metaphor for change," he explains. 50 Cent is determined not to let anything come between him and his son--a determination that stems from the fact that he never knew his own father. (For the record, 50 Cent says that he wants to keep it that way.)

6th life

There's Curtis aka 50 Cent, the up-and-coming rap artist who learned how to construct a song at the feet of one of the most respected DJs in hip-hop history, the late Jam Master Jay.

7th life

There's rap superstar 50 Cent, public enemy No. 1 of conservative watchdogs who are blaming him for the recent resurgence of gangsta rap. 50 Cent answers his critics in his poem, Courage Under Fire. "Like most humans I fall short of perfection ... I believe in God ... But I curse to express how I feel ... The things I've been through made me the way I am today."

8th life

There's rap superstar 50 Cent, currently embroiled in a heated dispute with rap superstar Ja Rule. The beef between the two has spilled from the confines of the recording studio to the streets, resulting in at least two physical confrontations. The feud has ominous implications in the hip-hop community, of course, and many are holding their breath, hoping against hope that it cools down immediately. As one high-level New York-area producer puts it, "We don't need any more dead rappers."

9th life

All of these lives, past and present, have culminated in the vast and sudden glory of superstardom, his ninth life. The 26-year-old rapper, beating on his body the scars of his first eight lives, is practically everywhere, and fans, Black and White, have flocked to him for all of the 'hood-righteous reasons: He's from the 'hood, and thus has been knee-deep in the gritty game that he raps about so fervently. Fans know that the mayhem he raps about is his truth, and he delivers it from the depths of his soul without apology. With the help of Dr. Dre and others, his rap lyrics have been set to the hypnotic beats that provide just the fight ummph that Blacks, Whites, Hispanics and everyone else in between can bump to on the dance floor, in their cars and on the hot summer street.

And women, Black and White, young and old, upscale and lowbrow, love him for all the 'hood-righteous reasons as well. For starters, he's drop-dead gorgeous. His rippled, tattooed body, his slanted, cocoa-colored eyes, the intoxicating twang of his gritty words, and the fact that he's quick to dismiss any invitation to a long-term relationship makes him the ultimate bad boy that women want to tame.

Yet in the nooks and crannies of his raps, he gives hints that perhaps, just maybe, he'll be a nice guy for that one special woman. To wit, his perfectly shaped mouth--so adept at spewing sordid street tales--can in an instant become the blinding choirboy smile that his grandmother adores so very much.

And that tiny out-of-place dimple on the left side of his cheek is especially endearing.

Until you realize that that's no dimple--it's a bullet wound, a not-so-subtle reminder of one of 50 Cent's past lives, and a not-so-subtle reminder that his balancing act has never been easy.

In fact, fighting off his past lives and demons has been downright messy.

In 1999, for example, Columbia Records took notice of 50 Cent after sampling his various underground mix tapes. 50 Cent went into the studio and churned out 36 tunes that later resulted in his first underground (not widely released) album, The Power of a Dollar. But just months before the album was to be released, enemies of 50 Cent's alter-ego, Boo Boo the drug pusher, shot him nine times (at close range) as he sat in a friend's car in front of his grandmother's house. While he recuperated in the hospital, Columbia Records dropped him from the label.

Even today, 50 Cent says, his enemies are still nipping at his heels. "No matter how successful you are," he says, "you've ... gotta take precautions." 50 Cent, who publicly admits that there is a contract out on his life, has taken the obligatory safety measures in the form of a multimillion-dollar life insurance policy (his son is the sole beneficiary), the bulletproof SUV he rides in, the bulletproof vests he and his young son wear, and the army of bodyguards who flank him wherever he goes. 50 Cent believes that even though he has left the drug game alone, many are bitter that he's made money hand over fist in the rap game, and that in the process, his fame and infamy has surpassed the Southside Queens strip forever.

Proving that even though he's out of the 'hood, the 'hood is still in his heart, 50 Cent recently threw his celebrity weight behind a rally to protest the Rockefeller Drug Laws that are among the harshest mandatory minimum sentences in the nation. 50 Cent, the social activist, along with members of the Hip-Hop Summit Action Network, stood side by side with Russell Simmons, Sean (P. Diddy) Combs and former Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Andrew Cuomo in the recent rally.

The irony is that the rapper, who has a prior rap sheet as long as his tattooed arm, knows the drug laws inside out, and understands that Blacks and Hispanics are unfairly targeted and sentenced.

50 Cent's public stance of "fighting the power" resonates with rappers and people who don't like rappers. Not on his laurels, he's sold 3 million copies of Get Rich or Die Tryin' in a month and has attracted capacity crowds everywhere, and the budding hip-hop entrepreneur, cut from the same business cloth as moguls P. Diddy, Russell Simmons and Jay-Z, has formed a new group, the G-Unit, and has a new line of footwear, the G-Unit Collection, manufactured by Reebok. He promises fans a tell-all autobiography by December, and says that he may make the foray to the big-screen sometime soon.

If he does go Hollywood, don't expect to see Curtis (50 Cent) Jackson portraying the hero--portraying the down-and-dirty villain is more his speed.

"I am the bad guy," he jokes. "Everyone loves the bad guy."

And the question on everyone's mind is whether or not there will be a 10th life for the bad guy.

Stay tuned.