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Return of the Clipse
By Ian Sherry
7/23/2025
On July 11, Clipse returned with Let God Sort Em Out. One of hip hop’s greatest duos is back in all-time brotherly form.
Before I share the upshot, let’s talk about the Fall-off.
The gist is this: at some point every rapper hits a wall, loses the juice. After years in a game that demands killer instinct and inter-industrial connections, there comes a time when artist can no longer create in the rat-race-space that is hip hop.
Did you listen to Music To Be Murdered By (20)? That was a falloff.
Did you listen to Donda (21)? That was a falloff.
Did you listen to Tha Carter VI (25)? That was a falloff.
Pusha T is 48 years old. That’s older than Eminem, Kanye, and Wheezy at the time of their respective Fall-offs, which only makes more impressive the fact that rap’s champion of old-school weight-moving is only getting stronger. Upon entering what would be a tricky period in the average rap career, Pusha T has released 3 consecutive catalog-topping records, and this time it’s a family affair.
Sometime in the early 90s, brothers Gene and Terrance Thornton were kicked out of their family home, onto the streets of Virginia Beach when their father found a brick in his kitchen. Now living on the same streets they served, the brothers had no choice but to make some shit shake. Luckily, they had some talent tucked behind all the 1s in their pockets. With moving being their specialty, they soon discovered their ability to move people with their raps. As Terrar and Malicious tore across the VA underground, it wasn’t long before Pharrell made that same discovery. And the Clipse was born.
The duo made an immediate impact on the 2000s rap landscape, locking down their place in Southern rap history and influencing the following wave of hip-hop-heads (Tyler The Creator especially) across their first two records. But as The Neptunes passed on production responsibilities to Mr. Combs and the brothers’ life paths became, divergent their work together came to an end in 2010, with Pusha T entering the Kanye-sphere and Malice stepping away to find God and write his memoir.
For a long time Clipse felt like a part of hip-hop history, a part of that time I just barely missed, a dynamic connection I never quite got to experience. Eclipses are a powerful rarity of nature: an otherworldly cycle beyond our control brings into alignment two massive looming figures in our sky, turning out our lights and placing the world on pause. Its been 15 years since the last Clipse, and the moment VA’s finest realigned, my world went on pause.
'Chivalry ain’t dead, you ain’t let her go alone, Found you in the kitchen, scriptures in the den Half-written texts that you never got to send Combin through your dresser drawer, where do I begin? Posted Noted Bible quotes, were you preparing then?. Malice’s words on “The Birds Don’t Sing” hit me harder than any other lyrics released this year, and they gave it to us in track 1. There’s not personal information readily available on the internet regarding the Thornton clan (a self-ensured blessing on their part I’m sure), which only adds to the mystique of Clipse as they dive into both family and personal matters for the length of Let God Sort Em Out. The record's first offering begins a pattern of ferociously confronting the elephants and skeletons scattered across the Thornton household, their beginnings which they’ve revisited in metaphor for years now – all with the help of John Legend's golden vocals. It’s a phenomenal first track content-wise as it flips the narrative on Clipse’ past from a place they escaped to a place they feel the need to revisit, with Pusha spewing his regrets from an apologetic place he’s seldom displayed and Malice recounting the tragic, consecutive passings of their parents with a special focus on his painfully retrospective appreciation for his father. Malice’s tirelessly constructed perspective works to offset his hotter-headed brother, deepen the album’s content, and link its chaotically corresponding takeaways.
I had small but reasonable concern about the brothers’ chemistry, considering the 15 years that passed and the changes they’ve undergone. It seemed Clipse no longer had their collective focus, dope dealing, but in a satisfying show of maturity and a will to succeed, they found common ground.
With their feet on familiar soil: the skateboard beats of the man who discovered them a quarter century ago, the brothers Clipse stand back-to-back ready to spit (with K Dot in tow). And as the second Pharrell instrumental rumbles to life, a storm of thought approaches.
Clipse bursts into motion “Chains & Whips,” as lyrics slice through the air publicly eliminating internally burdensome and real-life targets alike. Kendrick Lamar drops in beside them to tack on a third fantastic verse – his relentless assessments of self and surroundings blend perfectly with his hosts, a pattern that’s common among this return album’s carefully sorted guests. Just like that, God’s sorting has sprung into full effect.
The fashionista thug persona Pusha has been cultivating over his last two solo projects goes beyond lyrical content; his increasingly heady beat selection and ever-expanding industry access have allowed his sound to reflect this era of his career. Now, with Malice by his side, Pusha seems to have a reinvigorated sense of urgency in his words. Both brothers preach lifestyles, and while they differ in certain respects, they’re able to coexist within cohesive tracks thanks to a comfortable chemistry and like-mindedness in the most key areas. "M.T.B.T.T.F." is my favorite example.
The underlying source of Let God Sort Em Out’s holistic synergy is Pharrell Williams. The sonic platform of this album exudes royalty and palpably high stakes – the perfect climate for Thorntons. Williams played big role in Pusha T’s recent stylistic progressions, and his wall-to-wall effort on this record only further solidified a sacred scene at the crossroads of contemporary hip-hop. It goes beyond banger beats like “Ace Trumpets.” The album feels like a collective vision. Take the flow from “M.T.B.T.T.F.” into “E.B.I.T.D.A.”: track 7 is a thumping beat. The choppy drums perfectly set up heavy bass drops, like tossing a ball up and slamming it down over and over and over as the brothers let their punches fly. Track 8 follows with Pharrell riding his light, spacey beat from the needle drop. His synth-work and atmospherics on “E.B.I.T.D.A.” replicate the elevated tension of a “Summer Madness” and maintain it as a backdrop for his fellow emcees. He is the glue and one of the many forces that brought these titans back into alignment.
Following the seventh track, every song on the album has a feature. When track 9, “F.I.C.O.” presented a beat in the tonal valley between its successors’ sounds, Stove God Cooks swept in with the perfect hook to match. When Pusha laid down one of the hardest verse-chorus combos to start “Inglorious Bastards,” Ab Liva was there to deliver an on-par capping verse in a refreshing bassy tone the nasally Virginians lack.
When Pharrell introed the eleventh track, “So Far Ahead” in his computer hip-hop gospel bag (which I could take or leave), he perfectly set up the sturdy beat drop into a relentless Pusha T verse. It worked so nice, they did it twice! (Which I didn’t need). This time dropping into a superior Malice verse, before trotting that flow-stopping chorus out one more time (which I really didn’t need, perhaps the only decision I disagree with record-wide).
Nas stopped by quick on “Let God Sort Em Out/Chandeliers,” taking over the second half after a no-sweat-vet beat switch and riding a rolling beat for the album’s most memorable stand-alone feature.
As the notorious number 13 rolled around, the sun started to emerge as "By The Grace Of God" introduced light to the previously stark sonic setting. The triumphant ending track finally eased the constantly applied pressure, allowing me to reflect on the album. And as I searched for chinks in the armour, I soon came to realize there are none. My expectations were massive for this record that I never thought I'd see, and my expectations were met. Does one small song-flow decision on a passable tune with great verses negate that fact? No.
Let God Sort Em Out is a 10.