The Roast of Kanye West

(⚠️ You asked for Savage. Don't blame us.)

Ladies and gentlemen, Ye. Or as his accountants call him, "Liability, Line Item 47-B."

You’ve changed your name to Ye. But let’s be real—the IRS still files you under “Negative Equity.” In 2022, you lost Adidas, Gap, Balenciaga, CAA, JP Morgan, and Vogue—all in ninety days. The only guy who burned through more relationships faster was that one dude on *The Bachelor* who just got diagnosed with Chlamydia.

You declared yourself a genius, then funded a Super Bowl ad for swastika merch during the big game. It’s like you saw the Lombardi Trophy and thought, “You know what’s also iconic? The Holocaust but with sneakers.” Tampa said, “No thanks, we’ll save the hate crimes for the parking lot after the concert.” And then you paid for a *Wall Street Journal* apology ad, blaming a bipolar episode. Bro, that’s not a mood swing—that’s a lanyard for The Hague.

You called yourself the new Steve Jobs. Steve Jobs made the iPhone. You made a $200 pair of Yeezy Slides that look like a croissant melted in a bathtub. Steve Jobs died a legend. You’re going to die next to a dumpster behind a Foot Locker wearing a “White Lives Matter” T-shirt you printed on your printer.

Your net worth dropped from $1.5 billion to $400 million. That’s a lot of money—until you realize you lost a BILLION in one year. You didn’t lose it. You launched it into the sun. The only thing worse than your business instincts is your taste in wives, and you made Kim Kardashian the reasonable one. That takes talent.

You scheduled a concert in Tampa for 2026. In Tampa. The city with the third-most lightning strikes in America filled with people who still think COVID was an inside job. Even Rick Scott—RICK SCOTT, the guy who defrauded Medicare—said, “That’s too antisemitic for Florida.” That’s like getting kicked out of a morgue for being too dead.

But here’s the twist: you’ll still show up. Six empty stadiums, four botched soundchecks, and one manifesto written on a napkin. You’ll call it art. The rest of us call it a tax write-off.

Ye, you invented nothing. You bankrupted everything. You’re a billionaire who can’t afford therapy. You are the only man in history to be both canceled and ignored. I’d say “go back to the drawing board,” but you’d probably draw a swastika on it anyway.

(⚠️ She asked for it.)

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