They’re still obsessed with coke, although here they focus more on the money and fame it’s brought them than the actual travails of drug dealing. The brothers Thornton have retained their sharp tongues and smooth but distinctive flows, rapping out lyrics like “I keep that dirty money / I’m talkin’ fast cash / I’m talkin’ razor shaving / I’m talkin’ duffle bags” with the same equal amounts of nonchalance and subtle vigor that they use to spit lines like “hell, even my garage a ménage / like my hoes exotic, same as my cars” or “they think it’s cute / while they’re giving me dome” so viciously. Perhaps then they can be forgiven for making their first so-so record, one that on the surface seems to have all the necessary ingredients for another celebrated release. But after yet another long layoff and another sub-standard mixtape to whet their fans’ appetites, Clipse have found themselves in a weird place: successful, and with nothing to prove.

From their brutal lyrics, relentless flow, and minimalist Neptunes-provided beats, they’ve always seemed darker than their contemporaries, more real and, most importantly, more believable. Review Summary: Clipse going through the motionsįor Virginia Beach rap duo Clipse, what more fitting time to release their third album than when the weather starts to turn white? Brothers Malice and Pusha T have long made their name on critically-acclaimed, popularly-ignored hardcore rap that largely focused on one thing and one thing only: cocaine, and all the business ventures and death threats that go along with it.

Till the casket drops songs