Album Review: Tycoon by Ty Dolla $ign
Ty Dolla $ign sounds relaxed and in control, yet the sharpest moments are the ones where his tycoon façade cracks and he lets us see the cost of being unfuck‑with‑able.
Ty Dolla $ign has always been a conduit. He came up playing bass and keys in South‑Central and got his first major look in 2010 when he wrote and sang on YG’s breakout single “Toot It and Boot It.” The years that followed cast him as the consummate collaborator: a member of the production collective D.R.U.G.S. who could set the tone on a G‑funk revival track, lend backing vocals to mainstream pop, or bring sensual grit to an R&B hook. Five years after Featuring Ty Dolla $ign (2020), he finally returns with Tycoon. The title isn’t coy, at least to him. As he explained, “a tycoon is a boss … a Japanese word [meaning] ‘great lord’ … the top of your game”. The album aims to portray him as a mogul and a man wrestling with the trade‑offs that come from turning collaboration and pleasure into an empire.
Tycoon opens with a two‑part mission statement, “CAN’T BE FUCKED WITH.” Over a pounding beat, he leads a call‑and‑response chant, “All the hoes in the club go ratchet/All the strippers in the club go ratchet”, before listing his accolades — “Thirty mil’ up … Hundred points up on the scoreboard, can’t even count the wins.” The bravado is tempered by exhaustion: “Jump in that water, I swim with the sharks,” he notes, as if hustling never stops. Part II slows the tempo into a syrupy chant where codeine and cash are inseparable—“Cash keep fallin’, no receipts … Poppin’ pills, she barely eat/Heart’s so cold, I’m in these streets.” Even when he proclaims “Can’t be fucked with,” he is convincing himself as much as us. It’s a thesis that runs through the record: flaunting money and women while hinting at fatigue and paranoia.
The next stretch is a celebration of hedonism. “Don’t Kill the Party” features Juicy J and Quavo encouraging excess—Ty invites his girls to undress, then lists criteria like “I’m tryna see who pussy the best … I’m tryna see who love me the most.” Quavo responds in kind, offering to make a clone of his dream woman and sneaking in a bawdy pun: “I pulled out my mic then she screamed.” A$AP Rocky appears on “December 31st” with typical swagger (“She bi and flexible, she tri‑sexual/Try to rob me, I’ma turn that boy into a vegetable”), while Ty counters the bravado with boyish humor about not aging and Ray Charles puns. These early tracks paint Ty Dolla as the calm center of a chaotic party; his raspy tenor cuts through swirling production while his guests orbit around him.
But Tycoon isn’t just a victory lap. “Smile Body Pretty Face” is the album’s first exploration of intimacy, and it’s more negotiation than confession. Ty opens by thanking a woman who believed in him when he was broke, “I was broke and slidin’ in the same tee/You was there when nobody believed in me,” yet the hook, sung by Kodak Black, collapses appreciation into lust: “Your smile, your body, your pretty face/Let me fuck you, baby.” Ty’s verse romanticizes her social capital (“You the wave, whole city know your name … She don’t even need a dollar sign”), and YG undercuts the sentiment with crude sex talk, bragging about drunkenly wanting to “put my tongue in your booty hole.” Why? The track embodies Ty’s duality: he wants to celebrate a partner’s loyalty but can’t resist turning sincerity into an erotic transaction. The push‑and‑pull between desire and respect is unresolved, and the catchiness (to a small degree) makes that tension feel seductive rather than toxic.
On “What I Want,” Lil Wayne helps articulate the difference between fleeting lust and sustainable love, even if his punchlines are flat and forgettable. Ty’s verse is full of braggadocio (“Let you hit my bitch ’fore I let you hit my weed”) and decadent flexes (threesomes on the beach and CC‑branded lovers), but he’s self‑aware enough to admit he meets her “type like five days a week.” Wayne pushes the idea further, acknowledging that his dream woman might be bad for him while boasting that she’s “too good for these niggas,” Their interplay is witty where Wayne plays with the word “opp” with “optimist” and imagines belly‑flopping into a BBW; yet it drives home the transaction: want and need rarely align in Ty’s world.
The album’s heart lies in its later tracks, where bravado gives way to vulnerability. “Harder” sounds like a late‑night argument set to upbeat drums. He asks his lover: “What you wanna do, what you wanna do, go harder? … Was it all a lie?”. The plea turns carnal when he begs, “Love me like we first met … Fuck me like it’s first sex”. He imagines fatherhood (“You caught me by surprise/Got me ‘bout to give you a daughter”) and admits that climbing is hard, even when he compares their bond to diamonds. It’s the first time on the record where the artist doesn’t hide behind money; he’s asking for emotional labor, even if he frames it through sex. The melody is understated, as if he’s quietly hoping she’ll answer.
“Mixed Emotions” goes deeper into anxiety. Ty sings of addiction, “Poppin’ all these Addies, now I’m popped,” and laments that the only girl he loved “fell in love with somebody else”. His new partner leaves him, forging signatures on love letters. Travis Scott brings chaotic energy with lines about flipping switches and expensive cars, while Leon Thomas adds nuance, lamenting social media sub‑tweets and vulnerability: “Readin’ through your captions make me wonder who you subbin’ now.” The interplay of voices underscores Ty’s dilemma: he enjoys chaos but craves trust. Later, on “Wit It,” Chlöe’s airy vocals dance around Ty’s talk of “booty like a dump truck,” but the song’s bounce can’t disguise the transactional nature of the encounter. Pleasure remains central, but there’s a creeping sense of emptiness.
The album’s closing track, “I Wish,” is the most direct confession Ty has put to tape. He fantasizes about detachment—“I wish that I could fuck on the first night that we meet/Send you right back to the streets without feeling like I’m wrong,” but then admits his own faults: “Wish I ain’t lie so good … Maybe I’d get your trust … Wish you ain’t check my phone.” He recognizes that hurting a partner might make them stronger, yet laments that they both know “where you belong”. In the second verse, he gets more specific: “I wish I never made you sad … This whole green got the best of me.” These lines are striking because he finally takes responsibility, even if he stops short of apology. By ending the album with regret rather than a party, he repositions his image: the tycoon is still chasing the high, but he wonders what that chase costs.
Throughout the record, Ty’s songwriting is deceptively simple. He relies on casual puns by comparing a lover’s lust to a weed strain or dropping his own name in the phrase “what you doin’ with that, like my name was Bill.” He relies on repetition to make hooks stick, but the monotony occasionally feels like filler. Lines include YG’s booty‑hole confession or Wayne’s “Mona Lisa smile” pun add character somewhat, yet other couplets feel boilerplate (“All the hoes in the club go ratchet”). The advantage of Ty’s approach is that his voice functions as an instrument; he doesn’t need complex rhyme schemes to convey mood. Still, after fifteen tracks of sex, weed, and spending, some listeners might crave sharper storytelling.
Production-wise, Tycoon is what you expect. DJ Mustard, Hitmaka, and Ty himself blend slinky synths, West Coast bounce, trap percussion, and R&B harmonies. A track like “ALL IN” (not covered in detail here) leans on Wayne Wonder–sampling guitar riffs, while “Tycoon$” and “Twitch” pair twinkling pianos with thick 808s. Ty’s ear for melody keeps the guests cohesive: A$AP Rocky’s aggressive bars, Leon Thomas’ jazzy runs, and Chlöe’s pop polish all feel at home. The album’s sequencing also matters. By clustering the party tracks early and gradually shifting toward confession, Ty signals a narrative arc without explicitly stating it.
While we can look at Tycoon as a status update, it’s also a reckoning. The album celebrates the privileges that come with being “one of the biggest artists in the game” while acknowledging the hollowness that excess can bring. Ty Dolla $ign has mastered the art of being everywhere; his features and hooks have defined hits for a decade, but here he searches for authenticity within his empire. When he boasts, he does so with a wink; when he confesses, he refuses to beg for forgiveness. That duality makes Tycoon compelling even when the writing lacks depth. It’s a record made for after‑parties and late‑night drives, with enough introspection to suggest a weary mastermind behind the velvet rope.
Above Average (★★★☆☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Harder,” “Mixed Emotions,” “I Wish”