After more than a decade of radio silence, Clipse return like they never left - older, sharper, and still impossible to imitate. Let God Sort ’Em Out lands as both a personal reckoning and a masterclass in sustained relevance, with brothers Pusha T and Malice offering something rare in a genre that can move at the speed of virality: authenticity, refined by time.

The new album, released independently in partnership with Roc Nation, finds the brothers from Virginia Beach reuniting with Pharrell for 13 tightly coiled tracks that stay true to the minimal menace that made them cult legends, while carving out space for grief, clarity, and hard-won wisdom. It opens with “Birds Don’t Sing,” a gutting track that confronts the loss of their parents, each brother taking a verse to wrestle with the weight of it. “It was painful to do,” Pusha says. “Hard to even get through it.”

That raw honesty runs deep throughout the album. Malice, who spent the last decade walking a more spiritual path, doesn’t hold back. His verses carry the same gravity they always did, now grounded in something deeper. “I didn’t necessarily live by it, but it sounded so cold,” he says of his scriptural references from earlier days. “Now I understand what it means.”

Still, this is Clipse. The fire hasn’t dimmed. Tracks like “Marie Kondo” and “Inglorious Bastards” snap with venom and precision, pushing back against shallow success and empty flexes with lines that cut like broken glass. Pharrell’s production is sparse and unpredictable, all jagged edges and open space. Perfect for Pusha and Malice to do damage.

Cameos are few, but well-placed. Kendrick Lamar storms through “Chains & Whips,” Nas drops in on the breathless “Chandeliers,” and longtime ally Ab-Liva returns to the fold. Not as favors, but as reinforcements.

It would be easy to say this is a just a comeback, but Let God Sort ’Em Out feels like unfinished business. It captures two voices that never chased trends, never needed the algorithm to validate them, and never stepped out of the culture they helped build. As Malice puts it, “Nothing else works for us.” The album makes clear, and that’s exactly why it still does.