Hip-hopper too damn rapped up in himself

K ANYE West turned his shmuck dial to 11 Sunday.

Fans turned out in droves to see him perform at an early morning show at Webster Hall. And after the gig was cancelled, he paid them back — by waving.

He didn’t sing. He didn’t rap. No, he just stood there like a jackass, convinced of his own greatness, while the crowd damaged cars and snarled a neighborhood.

There is a grand tradition of musicians performing impromptu shows, for free, to delight their fans. In 1969, The Beatles played a 42-minute set atop London’s Apple building. Closer to home, U2 gave a spontaneous concert on a Grand Central subway platform in May 2015. Stevie Wonder did the same in August at RFK Stadium in Washington, DC.

Perhaps the disruption his stunt wrought would have been forgiven if West had followed in their footsteps. “I was there the night Kanye freestyled in the middle of 11th Street,” they would say.

But that’s too much work for Yeezus. Instead he was driven around the block poking out of the sun roof like Julius Caesar.

Kanye only cares about Kanye and his burlap-sack clothing line.

Should we be surprised? This clueless behavior fits West’s pattern of gross imperial vanity. The same dude who plopped his dead mom into a video game certainly would shut down an entire Manhattan street to satisfy a neverending ego trip.

The Great Kanye, 50 percent more influential than “Stanley Kubrick, Picasso, Apostle Paul, f-king Picasso and Escobar,” as he was caught yelling backstage at “SNL,” is a fraud.

If he really cared about the people who listened to his music, he wouldn’t have left them all hanging. He probably thinks Sunday night was legendary.

They say spouses become alike. Well, Kanye, you’re a Kardashian now — famous for nothing, obsessed only with how many mentions you get on Twitter. And, oh, yes, for being a giant ass.