Title: "From Yopougon to Anyama – Get Rich or Die Tryin’"

[Intro – spoken, dark 50 Cent voice]
Yeah… Yopougon, Anyama, Abobo…
No papers, only bullets and empty stomachs…
SP the Djadja is back. Real story.
[Hook – hard, catchy]
From hunger to the streets, we stole just to eat,
Set traps for cats, hit the market, share everything, no greed.
SP the Djadja, captain, brutality in my veins,
No birth certificate, no future, but the rage remains!
Mama sold sugar and credit from sunup till late,
Little brother crying loud, whole hood saw our fate.
Yopougon to Anyama, I seen hell with my eyes,
Now I turn pain into bars — Get Rich or Die!
[Verse 1 – Tupac storytelling flow]
Yopougon with my auntie, mama’s big sister,
She had a daughter and a son, we moved like real brothers.
Every morning I went to school with a smile on my face,
Grew up in Abobo, born 2004, no trace.
Then 2010 war came, bullets flying everywhere,
School still called us, “Little one, stay here!”
Gunshots popping, my mind going crazy,
I just wanted to run home, see my mama, maybe.
Grandma showed up one day: “Come with me to Anyama,”
I felt happy for once, followed her with no drama.
But days later I showed my real side, no more shy,
With the little squad, we turned to thieves in the night.
[Hook]
[Verse 2 – 50 Cent street grit]
We set traps for cats at 6-7PM when the hood came out,
Ate for free, felt like kings, no doubt.
Stole shit that wasn’t ours, didn’t give a fuck,
Empty belly turn boys into wolves quick.
Slept with girls from the block, sometimes older than me,
After a while I felt nothing, just chasing the feeling.
Fought other quartiers, football by day, blades by night,
Palu, scars, and bruises — that was our life.
One day Grandma called: “Mehdi, go see your mother,”
Took me to Yopougon, then left me with her.
I cried like a baby, tears falling heavy,
Didn’t wanna stay, but she said “Your mama need you, ready.”
Mama worked 6AM to 11PM, selling small-small,
No profit some days, still gave to everybody.
Some nights nothing to eat, little brother screaming loud,
Whole neighborhood watching while we starved in the crowd.
[Hook]
[Verse 3 – Deep Tupac reflection]
I watched my friends go to school, that shit hurt my soul,
No papers, no chance, I was stuck on the road.
They put me in CE1, I tried to catch up,
Always last or second last, life was kicking my ass.
Mama, I thank you — you gave everything for us,
Even when we had zero, you made miracles happen.
22 years old now, still carrying all this pain,
But I’m heading to the court for my judgment supplétif name.
No more stealing, no more traps, I kept only the lesson,
Turn Abobo, Yopougon and Anyama into my weapon.
SP the Djadja ain’t in the streets hunting food no more,
Now I’m in the booth, turning my scars into war.
[Outro – slow, spoken]
Yeah… From war tears to hunger years,
From Yopougon dirt to Anyama pain.
Tupac taught me how to tell it, 50 taught me how to survive it.
The story continues… Send me the next chapter tomorrow.
We build

Hip-hop