The Pop Corporation

It’s been well over a decade since we last got to look forward to a new full release from Clipse, and here we are in 2025 with ‘Let God Sort ‘Em Out’ – with the pair backed by Pharrell and a host of high quality features, for a release that barely needed any publicity push.

Since then, Malice had found God and their own coke-dealer angle didn’t sit right with him, leaving us with King Push kicking off the various Drake beefs, releasing ‘Story of Adidon’, which remains one of the finest diss tracks of all time, and a public fallout with Kanye West.

Push has kept his tools sharp, but what of his brother in arms? Laid back but venomous, Malice offers: “Came back for the money – that’s the devil in me”, and between the pair of them, there’s enough shrugs and needling that you just feel great to have them both at it, especially when he thinks back to the time he was the “Bezos of the nasals”, proving that Clipse were always one of the wittiest on the block.

Way back when, the pair’s flow seemed so effortless and razor sharp, and now they’re a little older, you might worry that they’ve lost some of that impact – no need – this is a tremendous return with enough for the older heads and the kids who never got to experience a new release from one of the best to do it.

One of the highlights of the LP is the boot rattling ‘All Things Considered’, which sees a feature from the legendary The-Dream and a wormy synth bassline and hook from a reinvigorated Pharrell.

Throughout the album, you’re reminded of how much you miss the quick lyricism in hip hop – that’s not to say there’s not a whole load of fun to be had with those that vibe and freeform on the mic – but Malice and Push are about the lyrical content life, and it feels great to let their pens poison you from the get-go.

So it figures then, that the guests they’ve invited onto this album feel a similar way – notably, Kendrick Lamar, Nas and Tyler The Creator. Between them all, it’s strange to think that we’re two whole decades on from the all-time classic of ‘Lord Willin”, because Clipse are making it look so easy, dismissing petty beefs and waving away all challengers like they never stopped making records.

All your favourite Clipse hooks are here, from fuck rap politics, to fuck you phonies, to that mixture of menace and genuinely funny quips, to the fun and games of trying to decipher who they might be taking potshots at – while we might be suffering from recency bias, throughout the album you can’t help but wonder if this might top the End Of Year rap charts when it comes to discussing what the album of the year is.

Of course, there’s the unavoidable linking to the past here, so you might end up comparing this album to the work of everyone involved’s past – is Pharrell’s production as freewheeling and cool-dork as The Neptunes stuff you grew up with? It seems unfair to indulge in that thought, as if Pharrell tried recapture the sound of years gone by, this might have ended up being a throwback LP solely for the old-heads.

And while we collectively miss the psychedelic bump of NERD records or sizzle of things like ‘Drop It Like It’s Hot’, that’s not what this LP is about. ‘Let God Sort ‘Em Out’ feels like a natural extension of sections of Push’s ‘My Name Is My Name’, rather than something that has both feet in the past. Make no mistake that this is Pharrell’s best production job in years, from spacey synths and dirty bass, now it’s different.

That said, on this album, we get to roll back the years with a jam that’s straight outta the early Noughties with a classic Rap Track That Has Something That Sounds Like A Bollywood Sample On It, which always lights up the dancefloor.

And with EBITDA, we have something that feels the most like vintage Neptunes, and Clipse deliver with unswerving confidence over the top. It’s magic.

Basically, this whole album boils down to one thing, and that’s the potency of Pusha T and Malice when they’re on the mic together. It’s hard to look away when they’re in full flow, even if you wanted to.

From mourning the loss of their parents, to the disdain of the competition, to a general clear-eyed assault on whatever is on their mind, whether or not you’re trying to find the placing for this album in the annals of hip hop or not, the main thing is that they sound great and the production is wide enough that it lets the pair weave-and-bob to find their own groove.

Maybe, this time around, the sound more mature, steady and settled? Maybe that’s the draw here, with the young buck paranoia turning into something more eagle-eyed? Of course, they’re able and willing to be funny and vulgar too, but there’s more to their bars than meets the eye.

This is great on the first few listens and it feels like an album that’ll still be worth listening to in the future too. The rap game could always stand to take a Clipse album, and in 2025, we’re damned lucky to get one.