(REVIEW) Clipse Show the Difference Between Rap and Rappin' on "Let God Sort Em Out"

The way The Clipse started this album with "The Birds Don’t Sing" was wild. They pulled no punches, going straight for the heart. Pusha opens up about losing their mother, and then Malice comes in talking about their father. The storytelling is so vivid, so raw, it felt like I was sitting front row at some opera in one of those old Roman-style theaters—except this was their real life. Stevie Wonder on keys, John Legend on the hook. That moment was magic.

Right away, it reminded me why I care so much about this kind of rap. It’s not just music—it’s real people, real life, real consequences. It made everything else I’d been listening to feel disposable by comparison. By the end of the track, I was still trying to catch my breath when boom—they hit us with "Chains & Whips" featuring Kendrick.

From there, all hell broke loose in the best way possible. The rest of the album is nothing but luxurious, classy, kingpin drug talk layered with scripture. This is real rap. And I mean real rap music. Not to hate on what’s popular right now, but this project made me realize most of what’s trending isn’t really rap—even if the artists are rapping. There’s a difference. The Clipse fill 16 bars with such clarity, intention, and rewind-worthy lines. No melodies, no trendy trap sounds. Just stripped-down beats and straight bars. It’s art.

Standout Collaborations

"POV" with Tyler, the Creator was a standout. Gritty verse from Tyler, almost like a flashback to those Odd Future days. And it served as a reminder—he’s still L.A. to the core. "So Be It," which dropped ahead of the album along with "Chains & Whips," had one of my favorite beats. Then there’s "Ace Trumpets," where Pusha floated with lines like: "White glove service with the brick. I am Luigi. Sold ecstasy and disappeared, I am Houdini." Like What?

"All Things Considered" with Pharrell and The-Dream hit hard, too. Then there was "So Far Ahead," which gave us Pharrell singing on the hook. These weren’t just guest features—they felt like real moments, adding to the story rather than distracting from it.

Beat Switches and Bar Swaps

"M.T.B.T.T.F." was crazy—both Push and Malice starting their verses a capella gave it this dramatic weight. On "E.B.I.T.D.A.," they went back and forth trading verses, 2 to 4 bars at a time, which felt so natural and locked in. "F.I.C.O." gave us some of Malice’s strongest work, though I won’t spoil the bars here. And I can’t forget "Inglorious Bastards" with its insane trumpets.

But the one that hit me hardest? "Let God Sort Em Out / Chandeliers." Spooky. That alternating verse format came back, and then just when you think they’re done, the beat switches and Nas shows up. It was cinematic.

A Proper Closing

They close the album with "By the Grace of God," a track that feels like a deep exhale. It’s reflective, spiritual, and grateful. After everything they’ve lived through—the success, the trauma, the reunification—they sound at peace. Just happy to be alive, free, and still rapping at the highest level.

Whether you’re a longtime fan or just caught wind of them during this rollout, there’s nothing out right now that sounds like this. The Clipse gave us a powerful display of storytelling, lyricism, and chemistry. Real rappers. Real morals. Real respect for the craft. We’ve had some solid rap albums this year, but if we’re talking rap with a capital R, Let God Sort Em Out is easily the best project I’ve heard in years.