Dear Curtis Jackson,
You have a mansion in Connecticut. You have kids. You have plans for making Jay-Z pay for accepting the head honcho job at Def Jam.
Then Gawker thinks you were arrested for selling cocaine (but they're wrong) about some odd minutes ago while I was trying to log in.
You were even caught with this expensive car that has those doors that don't open like other doors.
All I can say is if you're trying to increase record sales for G-Unit, I don't think you succeeded.