# NY GOONS 4 - REWRITTEN SCRIPT

Darrell Hamo-Baum might not ring bells for everybody out there, but if you in them streets, the boxing world, or hip hop circles, you already know the deal. Baum had mad connections with two heavyweight names, Mike Tyson and 50 Cent. Tyson kept him close as his personal security, his right hand when situations got heavy, but it's that 50 Cent connection where Baum's name really blew up in the headlines. Repping BK hard, Baum was embedded deep in them Brooklyn streets, around mad heads hustling and others taking the criminal path. He played his position in both lanes, from legit muscle work for Tyson to his alleged street movements. Come 2000, Darrell's name got connected to a major situation that nearly ended 50 Cent's career before it even started. 50, government name Curtis Jackson, took nine bullets in a vicious hit, an attempt that could've shut down his whole rise before he even made it. Street rumors say Baum had involvement in that shooting, and that's how his story got forever linked to 50's. Darrell Hamo-Baum came into this world August 20th, 1965, straight out the heart of Brooklyn. You already know BK shaped this cat, them Bed-Stuy blocks where every corner got its own tale. Sometimes it's all peace, sometimes it's straight battlefield energy. Now word from the streets is Baum got involved with some serious heavy hitters, possibly running with certain crews from early on. The hustle, the grind, them street connections molded him without question. Years later, his name started ringing louder when he connected with Mike Tyson, the champ himself. Hamo wasn't just some background figure though. He was Tyson's personal protection. That relationship put him directly in the center, locked in his position in the inner circle of one of the most dangerous dudes in boxing, but that wasn't the end. His name got real loud when the streets and hip hop started crossing paths heavy, especially after some serious situations had his name in everybody's conversation. Nobody knew exactly what went down. Baum was deep in the game, connected to some real gangland legends. Son was moving heavy through them Brooklyn streets, linked up with the Supreme Team and all that. Supreme McGriff, you know, top man of that whole operation had Hamo in the mix, Cash Money Brothers, CMB, operating it like organized crime, putting in work on every level. Now Baum wasn't just some sideline cat, he was about that action. Word is, Hamo was allegedly the one who hit 50 Cent in that infamous shooting back in 2000. Nine shots and still couldn't stop him, but it had them streets talking heavy. At that time there was serious tension in the rap world. 50 Cent had already started beefing with Ja Rule and Murder Inc and Kenneth Supreme McGriff, who had affiliation with Murder Inc, had his name thrown in the mix heavy. Rumors swirled about how this beef might've been behind the shooting, but it was never fully confirmed. Surviving that hit became a defining moment in 50's existence. He flipped the whole situation into motivation, turning them bullets into bars that powered his rise to the top. His story of survival became legendary, and it's a core part of his identity in hip hop, a hustler who stared death down and came back stronger than ever. This situation not only changed 50's life, but also carved his resilience and survival into the foundation of hip hop history. Before that, Baum had already been in the trenches connected to all types of dirt like robberies, murder for hire and more. But you know how this life concludes. By June 2000 Hamo caught that karma coming back. They say it was part of that never ending beef in the underworld. Brooklyn stayed warring, and his name got caught up with Damien World Hardy and the CMB family. Retaliation moves, all them gang wars. You either win or you become a memory. Hamo's life ended the way many of them do, shot dead in the streets, just another casualty of this cold game. Eventually the law caught up with everybody who was in the mix with Darrell Baum's crew. The feds was on their necks, and the main cat they really had their sights on was Kenneth Supreme McGriff, a boss in the streets. Dude was tied up in all types of wild moves, drugs slinging, murder for hire and straight racketeering. The FBI and HSI weren't playing games. They led the charge to break down the whole operation, and it was all orchestrated by United States District Judge Frederick Block. The feds came down heavy, showing they wasn't about to let that gang activity rock like that. This whole situation didn't just stay in the streets, it spilled over into the culture. When Baum got linked to the 50 Cent shooting, it turned into one of the most infamous moments in hip hop. The streets and the music was always connected, but this took it to another level. That real-life street drama became the blueprint for a lot of gangster rap, where the lines between what's real and what's for entertainment got blurry. This whole saga left its mark on the music industry. The drama, the beef, the shootouts, it all influenced the way stories were told in hip hop. Baum's legacy still echoes in the streets, tied to Supreme, 50 Cent and the whole BK crime wave of the late 90s. Damien Hardy was born November 3rd, 1974, out in the heart of Brooklyn. He was raised in that gritty, legendary Bedford Stuyvesant section. Homie went to Queen of All Saints Elementary over in Fort Greene, so he'd been running them Brooklyn blocks since young. Now word on the street, the name World came from his peoples comparing him to the baller Lloyd World B Free, who switched up his name back in the day because his game was that wild. World ain't the only one in his family with a heavy alias. His big brother, Myron Hardy, they called him Wise. Both of them was moving different, real standout types. They went to Bishop Loughlin Memorial High, that Roman Catholic spot that was all about preparing cats for college life, but check this, Loughlin wasn't just a regular school, it got history in the streets and in the game. That joint birthed legends like Mark Jackson, NBA rookie of the year, and Biggie Smalls. So from playing the courts to running the streets, World was destined for that Brooklyn legacy, different lanes, but still heavy in the game. Back in 91, Damien World Hardy and his brother Myron Wise Hardy formed the Cash Money Brothers, a real street certified drug operation that took over the Lafayette Gardens housing projects in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. This spot was home to over 2,600 heads with seven towers, each stacking like 13 stories high. It was a fortress for the streets and CMB made it the base of their whole operation. World and Wise wasn't no small timers, they muscled out the OGs running crack sales in the projects and set up shop like bosses. But like any heavy in the game, it ain't take long for the heat to come down. By 93, Damien caught a case, convicted on weapons charges and witness tampering, dude was out here wild and accused of popping shots at narcs and allegedly ordering hits on witnesses snitching on CMB members. That landed him two to four years in state pen. The streets was watching and they moved different after that. But World and CMB was already cemented as serious players in the Brooklyn drug game. After World got out in April 96, he ain't waste time getting back in the mix. By 98 he was already on some real street beef. The story goes like this. Damien Hardy got kicked out of a Brooklyn roller skating rink by a bouncer named Michael Colan. World took that as disrespect and when you in the game like he was, disrespect ain't ever fly. So in 99 he had Colan murked by another CMB member, his payback. Now, just when things was heating up, World's brother Myron Wise Hardy got caught in a serious situation. On June 12th, 99, Myron was gunned down in Lafayette Gardens over some territory drama by Romell Davis, nephew of Ivory Davis, who ran the rival Davis crew. This hit on Myron had the streets buzzing. World, who was locked up at the time of his brother's death wasn't going to let that slide. That kicked off a whole killing spree. World was out for blood. On June 15th, just a few days later, CMB member Dwayne Myers caught Jared Mackins, a dude tied to the Davis gang, and smoked him, paying back the disrespect with bodies. The retaliation didn't stop there. Within weeks, more names got added to the casualty list. Romell Davis, the one who clipped Myron, knew his days was numbered. The streets always settle up, and when you take somebody's brother, blood got to answer for blood. The violence escalated heavy. More CMB soldiers got put to work, and more bodies hit the ground. This was straight-up gang warfare, the kind that consumed entire neighborhoods and left families destroyed. The feds was watching all of this unfold, documenting every move, every killing, building their case brick by brick. Eventually, the law caught up with World. In 2001, after the feds completed their investigation, Damien World Hardy was indicted on multiple counts including racketeering, drug distribution, and murder. The charges was heavy, the kind that could put you away for life. The trial was intense. Witnesses came forward, some willing, some under pressure, laying out the whole CMB operation from top to bottom. Judge Frederick Block presided over the case with an iron fist. The evidence was overwhelming. Damien World Hardy was found guilty and sentenced to life without parole. That meant his days of running the streets, of being a kingpin in Brooklyn, was officially over. He was caged up in the federal system, watching the world move on from behind bars. His brother Wise Hardy's murder remained a scar on the Brooklyn streets, a reminder of the cost of that game. The legacy of Darrell Hamo-Baum and Damien World Hardy, two names forever etched in Brooklyn's criminal underworld, tells a story that goes way beyond just crime. These men represented an era when the streets and hip hop culture collided in ways that changed the landscape of music and urban life forever. Hamo-Baum's alleged involvement in the attempted murder of 50 Cent didn't just mark a moment in street history—it became part of hip hop lore, influencing how artists told stories, how they rapped about survival, beef, and retaliation. The shooting created a narrative that would echo through decades of rap music. 50 Cent's survival and rise to dominance became the ultimate street legend, and that narrative shaped how an entire generation understood resilience and triumph over adversity. Damien World Hardy's reign with the Cash Money Brothers represented the peak of 90s Brooklyn drug trade dominance, but it also represented the inevitable fall. No matter how powerful you got, no matter how many soldiers you had moving your product, the feds always had the last say. The dismantling of CMB sent a message through every housing project in New York: this life catches up with everybody eventually. What Baum and World left behind wasn't just bodies and broken families, though there was plenty of that. They left behind a cultural imprint, a blueprint of what happens when ambition, violence, and the streets collide. Their names became cautionary tales whispered on corners, in prisons, in studios, reminders that the game takes everything and gives nothing back. In the end, whether you was Hamo-Baum getting popped in the streets or Damien World Hardy rotting in a federal penitentiary for life, the outcome was always the same—destruction, loss, and a legacy of pain. That's the real story of NY Goons, not glorification, but the cold, hard truth about what happens when you choose that path. The streets of Brooklyn still remember, and they still teach.