Top 50 Best Kanye West Songs

When alien scholars comb through the remains of civilization on Earth, they will inevitably conclude that, between 2000 and 2020, the man who stood closest to the center of human culture was Kanye West. 

Kanye has been a wellspring of musical innovation and a source of inspiration since Roc-A-Fella hired him as an in-house producer in 2001, but music has only represented a fraction of his public identity. He introduced himself to a broad swathe of America in 2005, during a Hurricane Katrina telethon fundraiser in which he went off-script and declared that “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” In 2009, his literal upstaging of Taylor Swift at the VMAs instantly became one of the most scandalous disses in history. In 2014, he married Kim Kardashian, avatar of social media and reality television. And until Donald Trump came to power in 2016, he was probably the most newsworthy voice on Twitter. (“I hate when I'm on a flight and I wake up with a water bottle next to me like oh great now I gotta be responsible for this water bottle.”)

Kanye distinguishes himself by virtue of his Herculean ambition and self-belief. Through his proposed communications company, DONDA, he seeks to change the world in every conceivable way by offering services from summer school to “wave power.” “My ego is my drug,” he said in a 2003 interview with W Magazine. “My drug is, ‘I’m better than all you other mother fuckers. Kiss my ass!’”

The definitive ranking of Kanye’s albums has been fiercely debated since more or less the beginning of time, and choosing his 50 best songs may be an even more arduous task. For whatever reason, we've decided to attempt this seemingly impossible feat. Before you get too riled up about the order or the exclusion of your favorite ‘Ye song, take a moment to appreciate the incredible music Kanye has given us so far, and pray he doesn’t wake up “wack” tomorrow, as he suggested in his 2005 Guardian interview. “What would I do then?” he asked. Well, he'd still have one of the all-time best catalogues in music history, for one. Take a look at some of his greatest achievements below.

“Heard Em Say” is the first song on Late Registration, and the reprisal of Kanye’s gregarious inner voice (WAKE UP, MR. WEST) and use of a mellifluous Natalie Cole sample indicate that the album will not be a radical departure from College Dropout.  But then the outro, which consists of wubby bass, jangling percussion (a precursor to Big Boi’s "You Ain’t No DJ"), and wailing, synthetic call to prayer, signals that this album might sound different after all. Shoutout Jon Brion.

- Danny

Kanye’s most sonically abrasive album doesn’t make any effort to hide its cards. “On Sight” blasts off with some of the most distorted synths on Yeezus, and Kanye almost sounds like he’s daring the listener when he says “How much do I not give a fuck? Let me show you right now 'fore you give it up.” As jarring an intro as it may be, by the time he’s flipped from a beautiful children’s sample back to his troll-ish verses, he’s earned our trust.

- Trevor Smith

Kanye was at first valued only for his uncommonly zesty soul beats; his peers resoundingly shat on him when he played them “Jesus Walks” and indicated interest in not simply producing, but rapping, too.

With this in mind, the famous 2003 session in which Kanye played “Never Let Me Down” for Pharrell must have been extraordinarily gratifying. Kanye’s sincere verse, one-upped Hov, a salute to his grandparents and mother, made Skateboard P erupt in a fit of ecstasy.

- Danny

From Nicki Minaj’s faux-english accent to Teyana Taylor’s soaring harmonies, “Dark Fantasy” introduces the ambitious world of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, but above anything else, it’s a slap in the face. Driven by a raw RZA loop, it cuts to the bone of the boom-bap skeleton behind the artful cosmetics of the album. Ye’s raps are anything but pretentious, and are often goofy-funny (“Too many Urkels on your team, that's why your wins low”). It shows that no matter how ambitious Kanye gets, his personality always manages to shine through.

- T.S.

Though one of his more modestly successful singles, “Paranoid” remains one of Kanye’s best pop moments. A rare bright spot on the generally morose 808s & Heartbreak, the song hints at an alternate timeline where Ye continued to expand the colorful, optimistic world seen on the Graduation artwork. It’s upward-reaching melodies in some way predict the ascendent auto-tune anthems that would begin to surface in Atlanta a few years later.

- T.S.

“We Major” is flat-out one of the biggest-sounding songs in a catalogue that often skews towards the grandiose. The Jon Brion textures that lift up the sample feel endless. The keys, which resemble harps as they slide effortlessly up and down the scale, inflate the Really Doe hook to God-like proportions. Kanye and Nas are equally captivating in their shit-talking. And when it seems like it’s finally ready to let up at the 5-minute mark, Kanye quips, “Can I talk my shit again?” How could we not let him?

- T.S.

“We Don’t Care” is a sort of rebuttal to Talib Kweli’s Kanye-produced 2002 single “Get By.” Kanye is not content to simply get by—he wants to THRIVE, meet his destiny, become obscenely wealthy, etc., and he wants the same for everyone else. The presence of a children’s choir and lines like “We ain’t retards, the way teachers thought” imbue the track with an optimistic sheen.

- Danny

“Famous” will probably be remembered mostly for its bizarro world Madame Tussaud’s 12-minute music video, which contains a California king full of wax statues of nude, sleeping celebrities—Taylor Swift, Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, Amber Rose, Ray J, Caitlyn Jenner, Bill Cosby, Rihanna, Chris Brown, Anna Wintour, George Bush, and Donald Trump. The video is probably the most controversial statement on the nature of fame we’ve ever seen, especially when you factor in Kanye’s line: “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/ Why? I made this bitch famous!”

- Danny

“You need to pump your brakes and drive slow, homie” contains several folds of meaning, and it is plain good life advice however you care to interpret it. Paul Wall’s slab-showcasing verse—“Riding something candy-coated, crawling like a caterpillar/ I’m tipping on them fours, I’m jamming on that Screw”—is just the most Houston shit ever.

- Danny

Kanye truly brings the best out of Kid Cudi. From “Welcome To Heartbreak” to “Father Stretch My Hands,” Cudi has appeared on every proper Kanye album since 808s, and his appearances stand as some of the strongest moments in his own catalogue. Mirroring the piercing guitar line, Cudi sets up for two of the strongest Kanye verses across the album. Full of clever punchlines and biting social commentary ("Face it, Jerome get more time than Brandon / And at the airport they check all through my bag / And tell me that it’s random"), it’s hard not to picture Kanye passionately rapping the verses on Funk Flex, endearingly impressed with his own abilities. He wouldn't have put Raekwon on it if he didn't feel his bars were top-tier.

- T.S. 

Kanye frames “Heartless” as a kind of modern folk tale in the song’s intro. Gather round, kids, to hear the coldest story ever told! While his autotuned, moaning ad-libs may have rubbed some listeners the wrong way, now everyone (Travis Scott, Kid Cudi, Future) and their momma is doing it. 808s & Heartbreak was Kanye’s first album that didn’t produce a number one hit; “Heartless” peaked at #2 on the Hot 100.

- Danny

On a related note, “Stronger” went #1 on the strength of its sample of Daft Punk’s “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” and the implementation of shutter shades in its music video. Ever the obsessive, Kanye famously went through 75 mixdowns of “Stronger” before attaining satisfaction. The song marked a turning point in the creation of Graduation: the incorporation of a new, broader set of influences as foundation of Kanye’s foray into his version of arena rock.

- Danny

“Father Stretch My Hands Part 1” will probably be remembered most for its 30-second opening, which makes up for a quarter of the song’s runtime. Like much of The Life Of Pablo, dusty samples are thrust into the future by punchy Mike Dean riffs, all building to a Metro Boomin producer tag that would rule the years to come. That moment, just before Cudi’s uncharacteristically optimistic vocals become visible -- the negative space before light enters -- feels almost eternal. But it’s not a neutral feeling, it’s one of anticipation. “The best is yet to come,” it suggests, which is even more powerful than the blissful chorus itself. Also, memes. 

- T.S.

“Hold My Liquor” is a song of attracting opposites. Only Kanye West could have/would have orchestrated a collaboration between Chief Keef and the dude from Bon Iver, and grandiose symphonic harmonies underpin the dissonant screech that punctuates each bar. Kanye fashioned “Hold My Liquor” into a jagged shard of ice, and its outro pierces the soul like howling winds on the summit of K2.

- Danny

Few, if any, post-MBDTF Ye tracks go harder than “Clique.” Kanye and Hit-Boy summon a tempest seemingly from the depths of Khazad-dûm; indeed, the song is nothing short of an epic battle cry. James Fauntleroy opens the proceedings with a blessing that establishes lofty stakes: to be fly is to risk your very soul. Big Sean (oh god!) and Jay Z flex with ardor, but neither of them can match the raw brashness of Kanye’s climactic verse, which finds him swaddled in Gucci and gold chains and pounds his beating, bleeding heart.

- Danny

Kanye the Singer is rarely the better than Kanye the Rapper. One exception is “Spaceship,” from College Dropout. His aspirational, tenderly sung chorus—“I’ve been working this grave shift, and I ain’t made shit, I wish I could buy me a spaceship and fly… past the sky”—references the frustrations of retail jobs past and foreshadows the remainder of his career, which has amounted to a fearless exploration and expansion of his artistic universe.

- Danny

Bonus tracks are confusing. Incredible bonus tracks are even more confusing. When it comes to additional cuts, “Late” is pretty much as good as it gets. The lush string arrangement. The chirpy sample. The book-ending “A-ha-ha-ha-ha.” It’s the perfect distillation of everything that makes Late Registration great. And the only way to end it.

- T.S.

Cruel Summer was a rare misfire in a near-perfect discography, but “Mercy” in itself almost justifies the existence of the unbalanced compilation. A transitional moment where Kanye seemed to be following trends more than setting them, “Mercy” is a much more effective cosplay than the lazily lifted “Don’t Like,” taking trap’s essentials and giving them a widescreen presentation. It’s ascendant Drive soundtrack-synths and smart investment in 2 Chainz, who delivers the best verse by some distance, take it from well-executed to thrilling.

- T.S.

“Street Lights” is one of the songs from 808s & Heartbreak that strays the furthest from Ye’s rap beginnings. The closing of one of the best three-song runs on any Kanye album (along with “Paranoid” and ”Robocop”), “Lights” is an understated ballad that emulates a contemplative night drive. The synths stutter like shadows passing on a dimly lit highway. The verse melody barely pauses, with phrases bursting out of each other like rounds in a singalong. When the driving toms finally slow to a stop, Kanye’s auto-tune drags into a muddy low-end: “I’m just not there / Life’s just not fair.” It'll break your heart.

- T.S. 

Kanye has often referred to Yeezus as a minimal album. He opted for a blank CD case and last-minute consultation from famous rap “reducer” Rick Rubin, and came away with songs like “I’m In It,” a song that is never composed of too many layers, but is always bursting with and jump-cutting between ideas. Between the slow build of Kanye’s hyper-explicit intro, Assassin’s barrage of dancehall vocals, and Justin Vernon’s “Starfucker” bridge, Kanye is doing more with “minimal” than pretty much anyone, or as he would call it: poppin’ wheelies on a zeitgeist.

- T.S.

On Graduation, Kanye expanded his sampling pool to include the krautrock of Can, the yacht rock of Steely Dan, the French house of Daft Punk, then applied thick layers of multi-octave, prickly ‘80s synths. 

With this in mind, “Everything I Am” stands out as outlier. Its pensive piano sample, from Prince Phillip Mitchell’s “If We Can’t Be Lovers,” coupled with DJ Premier’s record scratches, mark a return to the aesthetic of College Dropout. Kanye balances self-aggrandizement with self-awareness and promises to be uncompromisingly himself. His mind lingers on Chicago, the city’s endemic gun violence problem and his eviction from his apartment prior to his move to New York City.

- Danny

Ironically, “Gold Digger” might be responsible for causing the very problem it identifies, so groovy and inhibition-destroying that it causes listeners to lose a sense of where they are, knock back a shot of whiskey, hit the dance floor, bust the most fire dance move of their life, attract an admirer or two, go home and have unprotected sex, and conceive a child out of wedlock.

- Danny

“Waves” fully embodies the religious overtones that Kanye traces throughout The Life of Pablo, and in this way it is the climax of the album. A resplendent choir of angels sings hosannas, and Chris Brown shows up to deliver of one the purest hooks of his career. The word “apotheosis” comes to mind.

- Danny

Kanye’s debut of “Love Lockdown” at the 2008 VMAs was a divisive one. At the time, it seemed like Kanye’s use of auto-tune was coming at peak saturation of what many took as a novelty within the genre. The all-sung track also came complete with Phil Collins-esque drums, making for Ye’s greatest departure up to that point, a bold choice considering he was coming off the biggest album of his career with Graduation. As it turned out, it was the gateway to 808s & Heartbreak, one of the most influential albums of the 21st century, and stands as one of the collection’s strongest tracks. Jeff Bhasker, who co-produced the song and much of 808s, would later take the sounds he built with Kanye to the larger pop market. Meanwhile, Kanye kicked off a second wave of auto-tune infatuation, at least partially responsible for the effect's use to this day.

- T.S.

Debuted first as a projection shown around the world, before making its way to the SNL stage, “New Slaves” was a big statement for Kanye. Coming off of two varyingly successful victory laps (Watch The Throne and Cruel Summer), the song repositioned him as one of music’s most daring artists. Kanye’s sharp commentary on racism and materialism in America stands front and center over a drumless arrangement that encircles Ye’s increasingly intense performance before its inevitable breaking point. When the sample enters and the melodic vocals clear the tension in the room, there is a brief sense of hope looking forward.

- T.S.

One of a few GOOD Friday tracks held over to the proper album, “Monster” is an indication of the early boom-bap direction of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. One of Kanye’s most discussed songs to this day, generally due to the ferocity of Nicki Minaj’s iconic verse or the lack thereof on Jay’s ghoul-counting 16, “Monster” is a song with a lasting legend behind it. Kanye’s decision to step aside and build towards Minaj’s king-making moment is evidence of how he’s always looking to prop up the best ideas from his collaborators and give credit where credit is due.

- T.S.

The dramatic opening scene of Watch the Throne, “No Church in the Wild” marked the first time a whole shit ton of people became privy to Frank Ocean’s existence. (WTT came out 13 months after Nostalgia, Ultra and four months before Channel Orange.) Amidst a throbbing kick and a roiling ocean of a guitar, OCEAN THE POETIC makes his grand entrance: “What’s a mob to a king? What’s a king to a god? What’s a god to a non-believer… who don’t believe in anything?”

- Danny

Debut albums have historically been a place to tell one’s story, and The College Dropout very much continues in that tradition. By the time “Last Call” rolls around, you know about Kanye’s relationship with God, his life-changing accident, and his brief tenure at the Gap, but when he finishes his last verse, there’s still a good 10 minutes of space left on the CD (note for the children: compact discs can hold 80 minutes of music). He uses that time to fill in the blanks on his come-up, providing some bonus commentary on the feature-length film that is The College Dropout. From landing a beat with Beanie Sigel, to producing for Jay, to eventually signing with Roc-A-Fella, Kanye’s speech is an intimate piece of rap history that any true fan can recite as well as a bar from “Through The Wire.” Oh yeah, and the beat slaps.

- T.S.

The “Only One” video begins with Kanye running and wheezing and laughing in slow motion against a bleak, wintry backdrop, and it appears that he is in the midst of some sort of shroom trip. But then his baby daughter Nori appears (as well as a fuzzy, warm blanket of electric piano, provided by Paul McCartney) and the weird, shroomy intro comes into focus. Kanye was broken by the sudden death of his mother in 2007. In away, Nori’s arrival in his life brought back Donda, too, as Nori’s guardian angel.

- Danny

808s & Heartbreak is often credited with ushering in a new wave of unguarded, melodic rap. “Say You Will,” the opening track on the project, draws a straight line from Kanye to Drake, who used the instrumental on his breakthrough So Far Gone mixtape. The verses are cryptic couplets that play as half-dreamt reunions with an ex-lover, but ultimately return to reality: “I wish this song would really come true / I admit I still fantasize about you.” It closes with a 2-minute beat ride-out, a rare moment of silence from Kanye that sets the emotional tone for the album.

- T.S.

“Blood On The Leaves” evokes so many things at once. The dark underlying layer of Nina Simone’s “Strange Fruit,” a chilling protest of America’s racist history, is given a confrontational reimagining by way of TNGHT’s synth brass attack, itself channeling the energy of C-Murder’s “Down 4 My Ns.” The beat drop is one of the most physical moments in Kanye’s catalogue, and it brings out a vocal performance so raw that it feels like it could have been freestyled in the moment. Like much of Yeezus, its emotional complexity makes it all the more visceral.

- T.S. 

Consider the 10,000 Hour Rule when reading this Kanye quote: “When I think of competition it’s like I try to create against the past. I think about Michelangelo, Picasso, the pyramids. That’s the reason why I put 5,000 hours into a song like ‘Power.’”

- Danny

College Dropout-era Kanye had a few endearing habits, one of which being his insistence on including conga drums in every other song. And no College Dropout song had more congas then ‘70s R&B tribute “Slow Jamz.” Kanye rattles off conga hits like a Tommy gun, though his hands do not move nearly as quickly as Twista’s tongue.

- Danny

College Dropout and Late Registration are often grouped in the the same “old Kanye” category, but “Gone” is a good example of the growth between the two projects. The addition of Jon Brion’s keys and strings to Kanye’s sample-heavy world are the first step towards the expansive, collaborative direction he would take on future projects. On “Gone,” that ambitious approach is applied to a tried-and-true excercise in hip-hop: the crew track. The highly complimentary Cam’ron and Consequence fill every pocket of the orchestral beat, but it’s all just a warm up for Kanye’s braggy final verse. “Shorties at the door cause they need more / Inspiration for they life, they souls, and they songs / They said, "Sorry, Mr. West is gone." By this point, the ego was more than earned.

- T.S. 

Conspiracy theorists have long argued that Pusha T had something to do with Rick Ross’ career high verse on “Devil In A New Dress,” but most likely, they’re just underrating Ross’ abilities. The instrumental accompaniments (led by a Mike Dean guitar solo) to Bink’s warm sample make the track one of MBDTF’s most dazzling instrumentals, and Ross’ multisyllabic barbs shimmer like diamonds set upon it: “Before his jaw shattered / Climbing up the Lord's ladder / We still speeding, running signs like they don't matter.” We may never know exactly how the song came together -- we love it though.

- T.S

Kanye released “Real Friends” in January 2016, amidst numerous album title changes, Twitter rants, and concerns regarding his mental health. The song marked the glorious return of his celebrated G.O.O.D. Friday series and sparked internet-wide speculation about the identity of his two-timing, laptop-stealing, extortionist cousin. It also provided quantifiable evidence of Kanye’s popularity; it caused “Lowkey,” a song by 18-year-old Kansas City rapper Rory Fresco that came next in SoundCloud’s auto-play algorithm, to jump from 5K to 168K plays in 24 hours. 

- Danny

For those who never warmed to the colder, more industrial side of Yeezus, “Bound 2” likely felt like a breath of fresh air. Built off of a simple loop, the song feels like a throwback to Ye’s early days, with Ye delivering some tongue-in-cheek raps about his disorderly transition into married life. Just when it feels like it’s playing it a little safe, a blistering bassline and heartwrenching hook from Charlie Wilson appear from thin air, brilliantly disorienting the structure of the song and reminding us that Kanye won’t be providing fan service just yet.

- T.S.

One year before embracing auto-tune as a means of channeling grief and regret on 808s & Heartbreak, Kanye used it to convey pure, ascendant joy on “Good Life.” As someone who’s always valued the concept of #1 (which he’s attributed to both Apple and his wife Kim Kardashian), Ye recruited the undisputed #1 hook writer in 2007, T-Pain, to bring his carefree single to life. His funny and conversational raps evoke the confidence of Instagram captions long before the platform existed, and by the time he hits “let them hate and watch the money pile up,” both a tribute and taunt towards 50 Cent, his main competitor at the time, it’s clear he’s created something truly timeless.

- T.S.

It’s difficult to take those who attack Kanye for his ego seriously, particularly when evidence of the rapper’s vulnerability has been present in his music from the very beginning. “We all self-conscious, I’m just the first to admit it!” he declares on “All Falls Down,” the Lauryn Hill-interpolating single from College Dropout that addressed many of the themes he’d continue to touch on throughout his career. “We shine because they hate us / Floss 'cause they degrade us / We tryna buy back our 40 acres,” he raps, proving anyone who thought “New Slaves” was a turn towards the political simply wasn’t listening.

- T.S. 

This immaculate flip of Curtis Mayfield’s “Move On Up” is actually the work of Just Blaze. Surprise, bitch! But you’re right, it does sound like a Kanye beat.

“Touch the Sky” introduced to the world a young whippersnapper from Chicago named Lupe Fiasco. His verse left his new fans hungering for more, and he would throw them delicious heap of scraps in the form of his Fahrenheit 1st and 15th mixtapes before delivering his debut album Food & Liquor a year later.

- Danny

Kanye’s tribute to his “little light of mine” is the best song about a mother-son relationship this side of Tupac’s “Dear Mama.” (The best book bout mother-son relationship is Donda West’s Raising Kanye: Life Lessons from the Mother of a Hip-Hop Superstar.)

“She really supported me and she always wanted me to be the best that I could be and not get hung up on the small things,” Kanye said in a 2008 interview with US Magazine. “So, with her not being here to try and talk me into doing things, I just try do things she would want me to do.”

- Danny

The fact that Kanye and Jay-Z closed their Watch The Throne tour with multiple back-to-back performances of “N***as In Paris” was the first indication that this song may have some replay value. Peaking at No. 5 on the Hot 100, the song is one of Ye’s most successful singles to date, and chances are, it’ll be the one that’s played at wedding parties for years to come. It’s hard to pinpoint what exactly makes the song such a crowd pleaser, but it’s more than likely due at least in part to the duo’s endearingly carefree demeanor, particularly on Ye’s end. Compared to Jay-Z’s tightly packed syllables, Kanye’s drawn-out entrance almost sounds like he stumbled drunkenly into the studio mid-recording; a charismatic, drink-in-hand energy he keeps throughout his highly quotable verse. At a time where a Kanye smile is a rare occurrence, “Paris” is an ear-to-ear grin.

- T.S.

Even early in his career, Kanye did not struggle to reconcile the blemishes of his character with the artistic godliness he saw in himself. The spiritual thirst of “Jesus Walks” made record execs fear it would be received as Christian rap, but Kanye did not flinch. "But if I talk about God my record won't get played," he raps at the end of the second verse, “Well let this take away from my spins / Which will probably take away from my ends." 

“Jesus Walks” won Best Rap Song at the 2005 Grammys. Kanye’s performance of the song remains a highlight of his career; he begins as the lit pastor, spitting fire and brimstone to the congregation, then is reborn in a white suit and lifted to heaven by angel wings.

- Danny

As the story goes, Kanye came up with the concept behind Graduation while opening for U2 on the “Vertigo” tour over the course of 13 dates in 2005 and 2006. “I wanted my drums to bang harder in stadiums,” he told Concrete Loop in 2007. “One of my inspirations was... Bono told me that, ‘No one from your community has ever figured this out.’ And if you think about it, nobody from the black community can really sell out stadiums, like 30,000-seaters, there’s not one artist you can think of. I can think of four, you know, white artists. Coldplay, U2, Rolling Stones, and Jack Johnson.”

If “stadium status” is the guiding principle of Graduation, “Flashing Lights” is the album’s futuristic nucleus; its synths and gorgeous string pads suggest the infinitude of space, which Kanye also sought to evoke in his set design. In his book Kanye West: God & Monster, Mark Beaumount described the “Glow in the Dark” tour as a “concept show based around Kanye as the pilot of a spaceship hitting a meteor storm and crashing onto a rocky planet drenched in dry ice and and overlooked by aliens in floating bubbles.”

- Danny

Kanye has had some incredible opening tracks over the course of his career, but “Ultralight Beam,” which kicks off Ye’s most recent album The Life Of Pablo, may prove to be his very best. Though Pablo may not exactly be the “gospel album” Kanye promised it would be, “Beam” comes pretty close to what that would sound like. With contributions from gospel icons Kelly price and Kirk Franklin, Kanye leads a powerful team of God Dreamers (including The-Dream himself) through a warped, but effective take on the genre. Kanye’s delicate singing voice, free of auto-tune and bearing its imperfections proudly, is as compelling as Price’s wail, but time truly stands still when Chance The Rapper enters, demanding attention in a moment that secures him as the logical protege to Kanye: “This is my part, nobody else speak.” And the crowd was silent.

- T.S.

Books often begin with a relevant quote from an esteemed author, philosopher, or poet—someone who has been dead for centuries, like Lao Tzu or Alexander Pope. The “Diamonds From Sierra Leone” music video opens with a quote that Kanye attributes to himself: “Little is known about Sierra Leone, and how it connects to the diamonds we own.”

Indeed, “Diamonds,” is a worthy anthem for international scandal; it captures both diamonds’ glistening beauty and the dark lust they inspire in the hearts of man. It is the 21st century’s answer to the James Bond theme. But the most important diamond here is not a Hope Diamond or other sparkling hunk of carbon, but rather the Roc-A-Fella diamond. Kanye raps: “Right here stands a man / with the power to make a diamond with his bare hands.”

- Danny

There is a reason The Hangover used “Can’t Tell Me Nothing” to symbolize misadventure in Las Vegas, the city of neon and excess. It’s a song about the ascent to a dizzying level of stardom and wealth, the everpresent, blinding presence of paparazzi flashbulbs and stage lights, the achievement of one’s wildest dreams, the corruption of power, and the struggle to remain true to oneself and one’s roots. “Man it’s so hard not to act reckless,” Kanye laments. He presents himself as the adult version of a rebellious teen who not scorns the wisdom of elders (“Old folks talking about ‘back in my day’ / But homie this is my day”), but revels in the sauce, knowing well that he may drown in it. Like David Carradine in Bangkok, Kanye believes that walking the thin line between the highest high and the lowest low is worth the risk. “This is my life, homie, you decide yours.”

- Danny

It was easy to be a little bit hesitant about “All Of The Lights” when it was revealed that the song would feature contributions from John Legend, The-Dream, Alicia Keys, Fergie, Kid Cudi, Elton John, Drake, and Rihanna. As impressive as the list of names was, it seemed overly ambitious even for Kanye, an artist known for his over-ambition. But as we have learned time and time again, there was no reason to doubt Mr. West, who delivered a song that surprised at every turn and hasn’t aged a bit since its release. Ye plays both conductor of the star-studded choir and the fame-weathered anti-hero at the song’s center. The human voice has always played an important role in Kanye’s compositions, from his chipmunk-soul-sampling to his autotune experiments, and “Lights” takes his fascination with vocals to its most grandiose extreme. Even stacked in this powerful arrangement, the voice remains an innately imperfect instrument, but that's just the kind of beauty Kanye tends to shed light on.

- T.S

"Through The Wire" is quite simply one of the greatest debut singles of all time. It’s a comprehensive introduction to Kanye with a truly unique presentation that goes well beyond what could be a gimmick in another artist’s hands. Recorded two weeks after the rapper was hospitalized after a near-fatal car accident, the song is the only track on the College Dropout in which Ye raps with his jaw still wired from the injury. It makes his delivery a little more mumbled and imprecise, but the song, and Kanye himself held an immediate honesty and importance. “I swear, this right here, history in the makin', man.” Through the wire or otherwise, truer words were never spoken.

- T.S.

“Runaway” is a lot like the famous children’s book Harold and the Purple Crayon. Kanye is Harold, the benevolent creator and giver of life. To the observer, he is a small child scrawling on the walls in purple crayon—or in this case, plinking away on a single piano key in an empty ballroom. In this one note, he sees the scaffolding of a towering, 9-minute song. He sees a way to apologize for the Taylor Swift incident and express how his life has changed (and hasn’t changed) in its aftermath. He sees a three-minute humming solo that simultaneously distorts and clarifies his voice. “Runaway” is a feat of wonderful imagination, carefully carried from the inner world to the outer world. It is the reason we cherish Kanye West.

- Danny