Los Angeles, CA – It has been nearly three decades since the lights went out on two of the brightest stars in music history, but the shadows surrounding their deaths have never been darker—or more crowded. On December 2, 2025, hip-hop mogul Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson detonated a cultural explosive with the release of his new Netflix docuseries, a project that promises not just to retell the story of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G., but to rewrite it entirely using evidence that has been buried, ignored, or silenced for years.

For a generation of fans who have dissected lyrics, poured over grainy crime scene photos, and debated theories in internet forums, the murders of Tupac and Biggie have always felt like an open wound. Now, 50 Cent claims to have found the salt. Through never-before-heard police audio, exclusive interviews with insiders who have finally broken their silence, and a fearless examination of industry corruption, the series presents a harrowing new thesis: these were not random acts of gang violence. They were orchestrated hits in a high-stakes proxy war where street gangs were weaponized by industry power players, and where human lives were traded for market share and street credibility.

The Proxy War: Bloods, Crips, and Boardrooms

The most striking revelation in the series is the reframing of the legendary East Coast vs. West Coast feud. For years, the narrative has been one of lyrical sparring that tragically spilled into the streets. However, 50 Cent’s investigation argues that this was, in fact, a “proxy war” involving actual paramilitary organizations. The documentary alleges that the Crips allied with East Coast interests while the Bloods backed the West Coast, turning a rap rivalry into a full-scale conflict with real soldiers and real casualties.

Kirk Burrowes, a former label co-founder featured in the series, provides a haunting perspective on the machinery behind the murders. With the clarity of hindsight, Burrowes suggests that there was a level of “orchestration” behind Tupac’s death that went far beyond a casino brawl. He describes an industry that was not just complicit but active in fanning the flames, prioritizing “business as usual” over the safety of its artists.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking claim regarding Christopher “The Notorious B.I.G.” Wallace is that he was essentially ushered to his doom. Despite the radioactive tension following Tupac’s murder six months prior, and despite Biggie’s own reluctance to travel to what was effectively enemy territory, the machinery of the music business demanded he promote his upcoming album, Life After Death. The documentary argues that the obsession with profit margins and release schedules overrode basic survival instincts, placing Biggie in the crosshairs of a retaliation that everyone knew was coming.

The Keefe D Tapes: “Give It Here, I’ll Shoot”

If the industry analysis provides the motive, the audio recordings of Duane “Keefe D” Davis provide the weapon. Davis, a member of the Southside Crips who was arrested in 2023 for Tupac’s murder, is the central figure in this new unraveling of the truth. The docuseries airs audio from a 2008 police “proffer” session—a protected interview where suspects speak freely in exchange for potential immunity—that paints a chilling, high-definition picture of the night of September 7, 1996.

In the recording, Davis describes the anatomy of a revenge killing with terrifying nonchalance. He details the events following the infamous altercation at the MGM Grand, where Tupac and his Death Row entourage beat down Orlando Anderson, Davis’s nephew. According to the tapes, the retaliation was immediate. There was no cooling-off period, no deliberation. “Our guy got jumped. We need to handle this right now,” was the sentiment.

Davis describes his crew arming themselves with a .40 caliber Glock and hunting for Tupac. They waited at Club 662, and when Tupac didn’t show, they headed to a liquor store. That is when fate intervened. Davis recalls spotting Tupac’s black BMW, the rap superstar hanging out of the passenger window, vibrant and full of life. The audio is visceral as Davis describes the U-turn, the pulling up alongside the BMW at the intersection of East Flamingo Road and Koval Lane, and the passing of the gun to the back seat.

“Give it here, I’ll shoot,” Anderson allegedly said, before firing the rounds that would silence a generation. The specificity of the account—the movement of the car, the transfer of the weapon, the chaos that ensued—strips away the mythic quality of the murder and reveals it for what it was: a cold-blooded drive-by shooting executed with military precision.

The $1 Million Bounty and the Diddy Connection

The documentary does not stop at the shooters; it aims for the financiers. One of the most explosive allegations resurrected by the series is the claim of a “bounty” placed on the heads of Tupac Shakur and Death Row CEO Suge Knight. Keefe D is heard on the tapes claiming that the hit was tied to a financial offer, alleging that he was promised a staggering sum for the job.

The series touches on the persistent, decades-old rumors linking Sean “Diddy” Combs to the violence, airing Keefe D’s claim that figures as high as $1 million were discussed. It is crucial to note, as the documentary does, that Diddy has vehemently and consistently denied any involvement in the murders, and law enforcement officials have stated he is not a suspect in the current investigation. However, the mere inclusion of these audio clips has reignited a firestorm of debate on social media, forcing viewers to confront the possibility that the violence was funded by pockets deep enough to pay for silence.

A System of Failure

Beyond the sensational details, 50 Cent’s project serves as a damning indictment of the systemic failures that allowed these cases to go cold for nearly thirty years. The series highlights the investigation into Biggie’s murder, which was marred by the Rampart scandal—a period of widespread corruption within the LAPD involving officers with alleged ties to Death Row Records. The implication is clear: justice wasn’t just blind; it was potentially bought.

The documentary argues that the lack of accountability for the murders of two young, Black cultural icons is a stain on the American justice system. It questions whether the investigations would have been handled differently, more aggressively, had the victims been different. It exposes a world where witnesses were terrified to speak, where evidence was mishandled, and where the “street code” of silence was convenient for a police force that seemed uninterested in finding the truth.

Backlash and the Unending Search for Closure

The release of the series has not been without controversy. The estate of The Notorious B.I.G. has pushed back against certain narratives, labeling some claims as “pathological lies,” particularly those concerning financial details and family matters. Critics argue that the series relies too heavily on the word of self-confessed criminals and opportunists who have changed their stories over the years.

Yet, for the millions of fans who still mourn the loss of Tupac and Biggie, 50 Cent’s work feels like a necessary, if painful, step toward closure. With Keefe D’s trial set for February 2026, the renewed public interest could be the pressure needed to ensure that this time, the judicial process sees itself through to the end.

In the end, the documentary leaves us with a sobering reality. The music of Tupac and Biggie is immortal, but the men themselves were flesh and blood. They were sons, friends, and artists who were caught in a crossfire of ego, money, and power that they could not escape. 50 Cent has pulled back the curtain, and what we see is not just a tragedy of two men, but a tragedy of a culture that let them die. As the world watches and waits for the next legal chapter, one thing is certain: the silence is over.