You saw that hotel surveillance clip, right? Diddy and Cassie. Dark. Disturbing. When people realized it was actually *Shawn Combs* in that video—confirmed by his own mouth—it sent shockwaves through the industry. And when folks like 50 Cent saw that footage? They didn’t hold back.

“I don’t support none of that,” 50 said. “Trafficking? Domestic abuse? I’m completely against all of it.” He didn’t even zoom in to verify if it was Diddy. The man admitted it. That was enough. As for Diddy’s so-called apology video? 50 kept it blunt:

“That ain’t for me. Ask Cassie if she accepts that. My feelings ain’t what matter.”

But let’s rewind. Because this story ain’t just about Diddy. This is about when **50 Cent went head-to-head with an entire Harlem movement**—**The Diplomats**, better known as **Dipset**. Cam’ron. Jim Jones. Juelz Santana. Freaky Zeeky. They were the *flyest*, the *loudest*, and the *wildest*. A Harlem hip-hop brotherhood. But also… a ticking time bomb.

You see, Dipset weren’t your typical rap group. When they had beef internally? They didn’t sit down and “talk it out.” They fought. Literally.

They cleared out basements. Built boxing gyms. Put on gloves. Shot the five. Five-minute fights to settle internal drama. That was how they kept the brotherhood together.

As Freaky Zeeky—the so-called *president* of Dipset—once said:

“Sometimes we ain’t speak for months. Then we see each other, throw hands, and afterwards we laughing, passing the blunt. That’s family.”

But when you play wild in this industry… you’re gonna run into someone *colder*. Someone *calculated*. Someone like *Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson*.

Let’s go back to 1997—before Dipset was even Dipset. They were called “The Legacy,” but had to switch names. They were Harlem born and raised. Cam’ron was a basketball star before he ever picked up a mic. He had NBA dreams, but a hamstring injury and a pistol-whipping incident kicked him out of college. So he returned to Harlem.

Enter Mase. Already signed to Bad Boy. Already rocking with Biggie. Mase believed in Cam’ron and took him *not* to Diddy—but to Biggie’s crib. Cam rapped for Big, and Big was impressed. He wanted to sign him. But before the ink dried, Big was gone.

Still, Cam got his deal through Big’s right-hand man, Lance “Un” Rivera, and released his debut album *Confessions of Fire* in ‘98. It did solid numbers. But by album two, drama hit. Lance lost his distribution deal. Cam got stuck at Epic Records with a 7-album deal—but only had two albums out.

Cam didn’t want to be there. He wanted *out*. So what did he do? He and a crew of 30-40 dudes went to Sony’s offices *every single day*—pressuring execs until they let him go. Cam *harassed his way into freedom*. Legendary.

Eventually, he landed at Roc-A-Fella. And *that’s* when Dipset truly became Dipset. Juelz Santana joined the squad, and in 2003 they dropped *Diplomatic Immunity*—a street classic. The Dipset Anthem was everywhere. Pink fur coats. Big chains. Harlem swagger.

But just as fast as they rose… cracks started forming. By 2005, internal issues tore through the crew. And this is where 50 Cent entered the picture like a wrecking ball.

It all went down live on **Hot 97** with Angie Martinez. 50 was doing an interview when Cam’ron called in *on air*—ready to press him.

See, 50 had been talking reckless about **Koch Records**, the label Dipset had moved to. He called it the “*graveyard for artists*.” Cam took it personally.

“Why’d you let Prodigy sign to Koch if it’s a graveyard?” Cam asked.

50 didn’t flinch.

“Because he *asked me to*. I don’t hold people hostage. But it *is* a graveyard.”

Cam tried to flex numbers. “Lloyd Banks sold 300k. Jim Jones sold 300k too.”

But 50 hit back cold:

“Yeah, and he’s on an independent. That’s cute. But I’m playing in the majors.”

The tension was *palpable*. Cam’s ego was bruised. His whole crew felt disrespected. But this was chess for 50—not checkers. He knew how to spin a moment into dominance. He clowned Koch. He dismissed Dipset. And the industry? It watched. And laughed.

Because after that radio moment, Dipset never fully recovered. Internal beef, egos, and label drama tore them apart. Meanwhile, 50 kept rising. Albums. G-Unit. Vitamin Water. Movies.

It wasn’t just a diss. It was a warning shot.

And what 50 Cent taught the Diplomats that day—on Hot 97, on radio waves from Harlem to Queens to L.A.—was simple: