In a bombshell revelation that’s sending shockwaves through the hip-hop community and beyond, Shaniqua Tompkins, the ex-girlfriend of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson and mother of his eldest son Marquise, has publicly called on Guinness World Records to officially crown the rapper the “Stingiest Man on Earth.” The accusation, dropped like a diss track on social media late last night, paints a scathing portrait of their three-year romance in the early 2000s – a time when 50 Cent was skyrocketing from street hustler to global superstar with his diamond-certified album Get Rich or Die Tryin’. According to Tompkins, the highest sum the multi-millionaire ever gifted her during their relationship was a measly $1,000, with follow-up pleas often met with $50 transfers – and the audacity to follow up with texts asking, “Did you get it?” The post, laced with heartbreak emojis and eye-rolls, has ignited a firestorm online, dividing fans between those who see it as a desperate bid for attention and others who view it as a long-overdue takedown of the mogul’s miserly ways.

Tompkins, now 40 and a fixture in New York City’s entrepreneurial scene with her beauty and lifestyle brand, didn’t hold back in her lengthy Instagram thread. “Ladies, if you’re sliding into 50’s DMs thinking you’ll be dripping in diamonds and Birkins, wake up,” she wrote, her words dripping with a mix of sarcasm and sorrow. “Three years of my life, carrying his seed, building his image while he built his empire – and the most I ever saw from his pockets was a grand. One. Thousand. Dollars. Begging for basics? Fifty bucks shows up like it’s Christmas, and then the nerve: ‘You see the money?’ Bro, you’re worth half a billion – act like it!” She capped the rant with a direct plea to Guinness: “This man makes Scrooge look generous. Crown him, @guinnessworldrecords. The evidence is in the receipts – or lack thereof.” Screenshots of alleged Venmo transactions, blurred for privacy but timestamped to their dating era, accompanied the post, showing transfers as low as $20 for “gas money” amid Jackson’s burgeoning wealth.

The timing of this outburst couldn’t be more poignant. It’s been over two decades since Tompkins and Jackson parted ways acrimoniously in 2005, shortly after Marquise’s birth, but their feud has simmered like a pot left on low heat. Jackson, whose net worth hovers around $40 million despite flashy displays of opulence – think private jets, Cuban cigars, and that infamous mansion fire he was accused of orchestrating – has long portrayed himself as the ultimate hustler, a self-made man who rose from Queensbridge projects to boardrooms. Hits like “P.I.M.P.” and “Candy Shop” celebrated his lavish lifestyle, yet Tompkins’ claims suggest the bling was always for the spotlight, not the homefront. “He cares about business, period,” she continued in follow-up stories. “Investments, TV shows (Power raked in billions for Starz), vitamin water deals that made him richer than most rappers – but for the woman who had his back pre-fame? Crumbs. Warn a sister: expect nothing but headaches and IOUs.”

Social media erupted faster than a 50 Cent beef track. #StingyCurtis trended worldwide within hours, amassing over 500,000 posts by morning. Fans of the rapper, loyal to his G-Unit ethos of “get rich or die tryin’,” flooded comment sections with defenses: “Shaniqua mad he leveled up without her – stay pressed!” tweeted one supporter, attaching clips from Jackson’s recent Final Lap Tour, where he showered stages with fake cash stacks. But the backlash was fierce, especially from women in hip-hop circles. Nicki Minaj, never one to shy from calling out industry titans, quote-tweeted: “Queens recognize queens. Keep exposing the game, sis. 💅” Even casual observers piled on, with TikTok skits reenacting the “$50 check-in” scenario going viral – one user, dressed as Jackson in a fur coat, handing over Monopoly money while quipping, “Did you see the funds? It’s in crypto now.”

This isn’t the first chapter in the Tompkins-Jackson saga, and it likely won’t be the last. Their relationship, which began when Jackson was still Curtis from the block grinding mixtapes, was a whirlwind of passion and peril. Tompkins has spoken in past interviews about supporting him through bullet wounds (nine shots in 2000 left him scarred but unbreakable) and early studio sessions, only to be sidelined as fame’s gravitational pull intensified. Post-breakup, custody battles over Marquise turned ugly: Jackson offered $6,500 monthly child support in 2009, which Tompkins blasted as insufficient for a man of his means. A 2015 arson scandal saw her home – a $215,000 gift from Jackson – go up in flames, with whispers pointing fingers at the rapper (charges were dropped, but the bad blood lingered). Marquise, now 29 and estranged from his father, has echoed the sentiment in interviews, once saying on Instagram Live, “Pops got the world, but forgot the family.”

Guinness World Records, no strangers to eccentric nominations (from longest nails to most tattoos), hasn’t commented yet, but insiders say the plea fits their quirky criteria for “unusual human achievements.” A spokesperson reached for this article chuckled, “We’ve had stingier claims before – think penny-pinching tycoons – but a hip-hop icon? That’s record-book gold.” Tompkins’ campaign has already garnered 100,000 signatures on a Change.org petition launched overnight, with supporters arguing it highlights broader issues: the gender wealth gap in relationships with high-earners, where women often foot emotional (and literal) bills while men stack paper.

Jackson, ever the provocateur, has stayed radio silent so far – a rarity for the meme-lord who’s trolled everyone from Ja Rule to Diddy on Instagram. But sources close to the rapper hint at a clapback brewing. “Curt’s not sweating this,” one associate told us off-record. “Shaniqua’s recycling old tea for clout. He’s focused on the Up In Smoke 2.0 Tour prep with Em, Dre, and Snoop – that’s where the real money’s at.” Indeed, with his 2026 stadium run projected to gross $300 million, Jackson’s empire shows no signs of frugality when it comes to business. His Vitamin Water sale to Coca-Cola in 2007 netted $100 million alone, and Power‘s franchise has minted him a TV kingpin. Yet, critics point to this disconnect: a man who once rapped “Many men wish death ‘pon me” now accused of death-by-a-thousand-$50-cuts to his ex.

The story resonates beyond tabloid fodder, touching on hip-hop’s complicated dance with money and machismo. From Jay-Z’s blueprint of boardroom boss moves to Diddy’s Bad Boy excesses, rappers have long equated wealth with worth – but at what cost to personal ties? Tompkins’ expose joins a chorus of voices from exes like Daphne Joy (mother of his younger son Sire, who in 2024 accused him of absentee parenting amid custody wars) and Tatted Up Holly, who in 2015 alleged abuse and stinginess in equal measure. “It’s not about the dollars; it’s the principle,” Tompkins elaborated in a follow-up Live. “I watched him buy fleets of Lambos for music videos but nickel-and-dime the mother of his child. Sisters, love him for the bars, not the bank – ’cause the vault stays locked.”

As the internet weighs in, cultural commentators are dissecting the irony. Jackson, who built a brand on bulletproof bravado, now faces a different kind of hit: reputational ricochet. Late-night hosts are already scripting monologues – Jimmy Fallon joked on The Tonight Show, “50 Cent’s so stingy, Guinness might award him for the world’s smallest wallet… in a mansion.” Philanthropy watchdogs note his generous side: millions donated to disaster relief and youth programs via the G-Unit Foundation. But Tompkins counters, “Charity starts at home – or at least with a decent check.”

For Marquise, caught in the crossfire yet again, the plea hits hardest. The 50 Cent heir, a budding boxer and content creator, has navigated his dad’s shadow with grace, once posting a heartfelt plea for reconciliation. “Family over fortune,” he captioned a throwback photo. Will this Guinness gambit bridge the gap or widen the chasm? Only time – and perhaps a lawyer’s gavel – will tell.

As dawn breaks on this drama, one thing’s clear: 50 Cent’s legacy isn’t just tracks and tycoonery; it’s tangled in tales of what he gave – and what he withheld. Tompkins’ warning echoes like a cautionary verse: In the world of get-rich-quick, love might just cost you everything. And for the ladies eyeing that Queens king? Pack light – the pockets run deep, but the generosity? Shallower than a $50 splash.

In the hours since the post, Guinness has seen a spike in inquiries, and Jackson’s team is reportedly prepping a statement. Stay tuned – this record chase could drop hotter than Get Rich or Die Tryin’. After all, in hip-hop, the real beef is served with receipts.