Bryson Tiller’s ‘The Vices’: All 12 Tracks Ranked

A standard R&B-inflected, braggadocious rap track, “200 Bands” finds Tiller tapping into Florida hip-hop through his link-up with homegrown ’00s icons Plies and T-Pain. While Plies delivers a solid guest verse, T-Pain feels a bit underutilized, with his Auto-Tuned background vocals adding interesting textures to Bryson’s lead vocals. Still, his muted presence makes for a slightly unfulfilling listen, especially since “200 Bands” is a thematic successor to “Shawty,” Plies and Pain’s 2007 Hot 100 top 10 smash.

For what feels like more of a sketch than a fully realized track, Tiller taps rising ATL rapper Babydrill for a brief ode to their ideal relationship dynamic. As long as their ladies’ respective energies and presence make their lives easy, Tiller and Babydrill are more than happy to return the favor and “max this AMEX plat.” In a way, Tiller briefly fashions something honorable out of his vices, resulting in a smart inflection point on the emotional journey he undergoes throughout the album.

“The way you make me feel is so unusual, I ain’t used to it, no/ This s–t feel good, this s–t feel great/ That’s why I gotta make life easy for you,” he spits at the end of his seemingly off-the-cuff verse.

Another track on which he pledges to spend it all on his favorite girl, Tiller spends “More Than Money” outlining all of the things he’d never trade his shawty for. Likening his woman to a “safe investment,” Tiller uses the track to explain how her value surpasses anything money can measure. Saved by the bounce-inflected breakdown in the outro, “More Than Money” lands as one of The Vices’ less memorable tracks.

In something of a cross-generational collaboration, Tiller (32) and Luh Tyler (19) decide they’re not sharing their ladies with anyone else in the world, which means they’re also not sharing their cash with random hangers-on who are simply distractions. “Ghost these hoes, I told you I won’t embarrass/ I’ma show these hoes exactly who I cherish,” Tiller proclaims in the chorus.

Marriage pops up in both Tiller and Tyler’s verses — a continuation of the exaltation of monogamy that anchored Tiller’s last LP and a commendable take in a contemporary cultural landscape that isn’t particularly enthralled with that kind of talk.

The album’s lone interlude, “Money Shower” soundtracks the culmination of Tiller’s compounding vices (greed and lust) at the storied portal of temptation that is the strip club. He smartly takes advantage of the song’s brevity to drop listeners in the middle of the action, conjuring up an Anora-esque scene with lines like, “N—as can’t bеlieve it wherе I found you/ But I found you/ She’s more than a dancer, at least in my eyes.”

By the interlude’s end, Tiller begins riffing in a slightly morose tone, a chilling reminder that this isn’t him reveling in the moment. Our guy is coping and buying time, until he can address the woman he truly wants to be with.

Kicking off the project with a sexy drill vibe and an acknowledgement of his growth (“I came a long way from the toxic boy, you dig?”), “On the Way” is an incredibly effective opener. There’s an urgency to Tiller’s delivery that suggests he’s trying (and somewhat failing) to outrun his vices, or at least their impact. “I’m on the edge, hangin’ on barely, just don’t push me now/ Hangin’ on threads, baby, just let me drop, don’t cut me down/ I’m on the edge, yeah, I took and I fled the country now,” he spits in the final chorus.

Notably, “On the Way” opens with lyrics lifted from Chris Brown’s “Ain’t No Way (You Won’t Love Me),” a track from his 2005 debut studio album — a sweet nod to his frequent collaborator and current tour mate.

A high-energy closer, “Finished” returns Tiller to the sonic space of “On the Way,” with the skeleton of a sexy drill beat. Here, Tiller is talking cash s—t and fully standing in the impact and longevity of his career and music. It’s a particularly stunning moment for those of us who witnessed both the pushback Trapsoul received from certain R&B circles when it first dropped, and the enduring legacy the record carved out for itself. “Hate when these lames come for a n—a/ I’m goin’ on a whole new run/ They try and trick me out my spot/ I be done with this s–t when I’m done,” he proclaims.

Although he hasn’t shied away from announcing musical hiatuses and taking lengthy breaks between releases, Tiller is clearly far from “finished.”

A more melodic track than most of the offerings on Vices, “Cut Ties” covers exactly what its title suggests: Tiller’s commitment to cutting off those who don’t align with his program. Stacked with some of the best scene-setting and storytelling on the album — “Does shawty see me under the bright lights? ‘Cause I/ Told the bottle girls put my name up on the sign/ Case shawty think that I’m hurtin’, I’m just fine” — “Cut Ties” gives context to Tiller’s emotions and reactions that subsequently add more nuance to the muted pain that courses through the track.

Bossma Dlow, one of rap’s biggest breakout stars of 2024, stops by for a brief guest verse that unfortunately doesn’t add much to the song. Thankfully, it doesn’t detract from it either; his verse simply feels like it could have been replaced by a stronger, more engaging bridge from Tiller.

Built on a swirling amalgam of Nintendo sound effects, nods to new jazz and ricocheting snares, “First Place” sets into motion the triumphant energy Tiller taps into across the album. Through slick references to past albums (“Ask who made me, I made me”), Tiller packages reflections on past doubters with celebrations of his present success, always keeping in mind that he’s running a race that his opps simply aren’t up for.

“If anybody deserve this s–t, it’s us, boy/ I ain’t too good, come sit with us, boy/ I show you how to run s—t up, boy/ F—k the 9-5s and buses, boy,” he bitingly declares in the chorus.

For the album’s final foray into Southern hip-hop, Tiller brings us to Houston by way of a chopped-n-screwed opening verse that details his exhaustion with the back-and-forth and uncertainty surrounding the stability of his romance. “And I’m tired of bein’ singled out, but/ Maybe bein’ singled out is what I’m needin’ now, uh/ I’m too quick to beat around the bush when we go out, uh/ Think I’d rather be around her than be without her,” he wonders.

Lone Star legend Bun B pops in for a generation-bridging verse that casts him as the resident old head, confirming that Tiller should absolutely lock down the woman he wants to spend his life with. He doesn’t give explicit directions, but his dedications to his own lover (“Man, she know she the one for me, and I know she the one too/ When walls start to closin’ in, you the one I run to”) provide a winning example for Tiller to follow.

Tiller’s biggest strength as a songwriter has always been how disarmingly honest he gets, regardless of how crazy he makes his characters, himself always included, look — and that’s why “Burnout” feels so raw and fresh.

Eschewing a proper hook in favor of lush, grandiose strings tailor-made for a Rick Ross feature, “Mini Kelly” is an easy Vices standout. Named for the Hermès Kelly bag, Tiller and Ross trade stream-of-consciousness verses chiefly concerned with losing love, taking stock of the unseemly ways they cope with that loss, and beginning the journey of winning their lovers back.

“Why’d I try to find solace through my vices when we split?/ Put a shiesty on and try to find my wifey in the strip/ Club, I know that ain’t like Bryson, but I had to write that hit/ Turned tricks, lookin’ at me like, ‘Well, you ain’t learn s–t,’” he rhymes in his second verse of the Gravez-produced track, expertly capturing the embarrassment and shame that comes with getting called out for actions that you know are wrong, but simply can’t help to take.

Ross follows that up with an aspirational verse (“I can never be the biggest if I never try/ We can never get to Venice if we never fly/ I won’t get to see the heavens if I never die”) that taps into the song’s overarching theme of leveling up across all areas of life — from the romantic to the financial.

The third-to-last track on The Vices, “Last Call,” finds Tiller infusing the yearning of his R&B side with the cadence of his rap side — while still incorporating bits of his now trademark toxicity.

“What it’s gon’ take just for you to drunk call me?/ What it’s gon’ take, girl, for you to jump on it?/ Since you Ginuwine, come and ride my pony,” he sings in the chorus, somehow balancing manipulative inclinations with a genuine need for his girl’s attention and love, especially in the face of the temptations he battles across the nine previous tracks.

Living up to its closing position, “Last Call” finds Tiller nodding to the things “his OGs taught him,” in his quest to get back the one woman he truly loves. His earnest tone nicely complements the relatively unfussy beat, which grants the song some emotional depth beyond the simplicity of a final booty call. Armed with the strongest chorus on the album and snap-anchored production from Hitmaka and Nick Papz, “Last Call” compiles all of the elements that made Tiller one of the leaders of his class of R&B stars.