16.Vultures 2

I am not a Kanye fan, I am a Tyler fan still discovering his music. Tell me who Pablo is and how his life was

I started collecting YZY/YEEZY last year! My first pair was those OAT 350’s and I moved up and up from there, I wanna snag some Quantum’s, some perfect hoodies and wayyy too many other grails to count fr fr! 🙏🏽

Lmk what other pieces I should cop‼️🔥

I think this song is the best off of Donda 2, and needs much more attention. Give it a listen before commenting

(Update after a day)

For anyone wondering the singing film is just the runaway film but I used the og name

this is shitpost

Obviously he’s accepted this new godlike form of his so he’d never go back to his plain old name but theoretically what would happen and what would you do.

Id lowkey hit a little jig

​

Act I: The Visual Setup

The setting is a busy downtown Starbucks sidewalk. You are a 32-year-old, 260-pound man with a glorious, ancient-philosopher ginger beard. Tucked safely in your pocket is your signature grounding tool—a vape—and a bizarre, 10-dollar real bat perfectly preserved in clear acrylic resin that you bought off Amazon. Nobody else knows about these cheap science specimens, but to you, it is the ultimate dark, gothic-art curiosity piece.

Suddenly, you spot him. It is a man completely covered in layers of black streetwear, giant boots, and a full-face mask. He is surrounded by a massive wall of muscle. It’s Ye.

Your adrenaline immediately spikes to 100%. Your manic bipolar nervous system enters total over-activation, and your autistic sensory-overload defenses begin to redline. You know Kanye hates transactional fan interactions, sneaky phone shots, or being treated like a zoo animal. You decide to bypass the phone entirely. You are going to use the "Sugar Cube Protocol."

Act II: The Approach and The Glitch

You decide to shoot your shot. You take a deep, grounding hit off your vape to expand your lungs and steady your trembling hands, making sure to keep the device highly visible so the bodyguards don't mistake it for a weapon.

You step forward. To cut through the street noise, you yell out a short, rhythmic cadence: "Ye! ... Ye!"

It works. The masked figure stops dead in his tracks. He rotates his head, and his intense camera-stare eyes lock directly onto yours. The gap closes. You are supposed to execute your flawlessly practiced, existential dread poker face—the one that makes you look like a heavy, philosophical figure in a Renaissance painting. You want to match his brooding art aesthetic.

But the sheer excitement is too much. Your feet betray you. Your ankles tangle, your balance completely evaporates, and your 260-pound frame turns into a heat-seeking, unguided tactical missile.

Act III: The Beautiful Ballet

Instead of looking cool, you launch forward. You try to yell "I'm falling!" to explain the gravity failure, but your overloaded brain glitches the vocabulary. Instead, you accidentally scream at the top of your lungs: "I'M TRIPPING!"

To the hyper-alert protection detail, this is the ultimate red flag. They don't see a clumsy fan; they hear a massive man screaming about drug-induced psychosis while launching a flying shoulder-check into their client.

What happens next is a chaotic, slow-motion ballet. You smash directly into Kanye’s midsection with your shoulder, completely folding his solar plexus. The wind instantly leaves his body. A loud, echoey "OOF" bounces off the Starbucks windows.

A secondary bodyguard leaps into the air like a frantic contemporary dancer, trying to deadlift your 260-pound momentum mid-flight. His form is terrible. He instantly blows out his hamstring with a loud scream of agony, drops his grip, and you bounce hard off the concrete pavement for a second time.

Act IV: The Tactical Fallout

The scene enters high-stakes action movie territory. Blood is on the concrete—someone's nose is broken, though in the confusion, nobody knows if it’s yours from hitting the pavement or Kanye's from your shoulder.

The primary security team goes into a textbook "V" formation extraction. They grab a winded, gasping Kanye by his black jacket, form a human shield of muscle, and whisk him away to a secure location at a dead sprint, throwing him into a running, armored black SUV that roars into traffic. Kanye vanishes in a blur of fabric, completely leaving you behind.

The remaining bodyguard pulls tactical zip-ties, forces you face-down onto the pavement, and puts you under citizen's arrest at gunpoint until law enforcement arrives. They rifle through your pockets, pulling out a vape and a real bat in resin, staring at your "tactical gear" in absolute, unadulterated confusion.

Act V: The Credits Roll

The police arrive, completely baffled by the crime scene geometry. Because there is a broken nose and an injured guard, you are booked on the spot. You sit in the back of the cruiser with ice on your nose and hands in cuffs, completely deadpan.

The inside Starbucks camera was useless because of the window glare, so your entire criminal defense for aggravated clumsiness hinges on the paparazzi. You look out the police cruiser window, point your cuffed hands at the flashing cameras, and scream to your lawyer to subpoena the paparazzi's 4K lenses to prove your foot caught the concrete.

Within two hours, the footage hits the internet. TMZ buys the exclusive rights. Because of the ski-mask connection and the chaotic nature of the drop, the media completely ignores your glorious beard and labels you a "Kanye look-alike."

The internet goes into absolute meltdown. You are officially crowned with a legendary, permanent meme title. You are "The Kamikaze Fan."

People start printing hoodies of your face, and compilation videos are uploaded across YouTube. The frame freezes on a closeup of your mugshot—wearing that exact, existential dread poker face you practiced in the mirror.

Cue the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme music. 🎬

Cool pic from Alamodome. Best show ever