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Clipse’s ‘Let God Sort Em Out’ Is a Brooding, Luxe Return That’s More Focused Than Fearless
Jul
Sixteen years after their last album as a duo, Clipse — the iconic Virginia Beach siblings Pusha T and Malice — have returned with Let God Sort Em Out, an album that is both triumphant and tight-lipped, as controlled as it is self-important. Armed with moody, minimal Pharrell Williams production and razor-edged lyricism, the brothers waste no time reminding you that they’re still among the most formidable pens in hip-hop. But with every moment of stunning technical prowess comes an equal measure of stylistic conservatism, holding the album back from the transcendent heights of their 2006 masterpiece Hell Hath No Fury.
🎙 A Reunion Draped in Luxury and Lethal Intent
While plenty of rap acts wear their designer affiliations on their sleeves, Clipse were couture rap before it was a trend — pushing kilos in rhyme while suited for Paris Fashion Week. On Let God Sort Em Out, they’re not looking to rehash old glories; they’re aiming to cement legacy with immaculate form, heavyweight guests (Nas, Kendrick Lamar, Tyler, the Creator), and emotionally evolved writing that flirts with grandeur — and occasionally sanctimony.
The album opens with “Birds Don’t Sing,” a moving elegy to their late parents, balancing soulful John Legend hooks with stoic verses that whisper remembrance through clenched teeth. “Damn, I had a dad,” Malice raps, as if stunned by the blessing. It’s the rare moment of unguarded tenderness on an album largely fortified by grim, luxe toughness.
⚔️ Barbed Wit & Blood Feuds: Classic Clipse Cuts Deep
One of the album’s sharpest blades is “Chains & Whips,” a brutal response to Jim Jones, whose recent comments about Pusha’s legacy clearly still sting. Over Pharrell’s spaghetti-western-meets-dystopia beat, Push whispers like a mob boss in a confession booth. Kendrick Lamar adds theater to the drama, though his feature feels more like method acting than true sparring.
Elsewhere, “So Be It” ranks among the album’s best, pairing Saudi-inspired strings with surgical takedowns: “You cried in front of me, you died in front of me.” It’s not just battle rap; it’s character dissection. Ace Trumpets keeps the surgical precision intact, reaffirming that Clipse’s psychic bond and writing chemistry have only strengthened in time.
🧊 Pharrell’s Ice-Cold Gloss — A Blessing and a Limit
Pharrell’s beats here are pristine — diamond-polished, restrained, and cinematic — but they can veer into too-perfect territory. The minimalism that made early Clipse thrilling now sometimes feels sterile, as if more concerned with vibe than edge. Tracks like “P.O.V.” and “Grace of God” toe that line, with the latter marred by a lukewarm hook that undercuts its thematic weight.
When Pharrell’s sonic world expands, as on “So Far Ahead,” it’s unfortunately undermined by a clumsy, self-aggrandizing chorus that feels lifted from a personal branding seminar: “They don’t know what it is when I’m on it / But once they figure it out, I don’t want it.”
🔥 Legacy Maintained, If Not Reimagined
Despite its occasional stiffness, Let God Sort Em Out succeeds by virtue of its unshakable command. Push and Malice don’t need trends — they outlast them. And when they lock in, as they do on most of this album, their verses drip gravitas, menace, and elegance. While not as daring as their earlier work, this album is structurally sound, sonically sharp, and emotionally weighty in ways that resonate.
No, there’s no “Grindin’” or “Mr. Me Too” here — no instantly iconic bangers to launch a thousand freestyle sessions. But there’s legacy-level writing, measured production, and a sense that the Clipse are at peace with who they are: rap royalty uninterested in pandering.
🧾 Final Verdict
Let God Sort Em Out is a dignified, disciplined return, occasionally hampered by its own myth-making but anchored by elite lyricism and mature introspection. It may not change the game like their earlier classics, but it cements Clipse as masters of their own lane — aloof, lethal, and dressed to kill.
Score: 8/10
Essential listening for rap heads who value craft, control, and couture-grade cool.
📌 Read the full review on Variety
