It's been 16 long years since Clipse released their last album, 2009's inconsistent Til the Casket Drops. Since then, the brothers (Pusha T and No Malice) have taken very different paths: No Malice added the "No" to his name and started making Christian rap inspired by both his deacon father and his own conversion to Christianity. Pusha T worked a bunch with Kanye, released a number of critically acclaimed albums, and participated in some very public disputes. Now, reunited and hungry as fuck, Clipse return with Let God Sort Em Out, a hostile, paranoid, and often inspiring album produced entirely by frequent collaborator, Pharrell Williams. Let God Sort Em Out comes in the wake of the aforementioned controversies and feuds — with labels, with other rappers and producers, and with each other. And while some have cooled down (they're back together, aren't they?), others have become even more ingrained, even more inflamed; very public fallouts with former partners (Ye-who-must-not-be-named) and labels (Def Jam), as well as diss battles with Canada's Very Own, have peppered the proceedings with a shade of malice (ha!).Not that that's a bad thing: first single and album standout "Ace Trumpets" features menacing beat flips, fuzzy synths, and drips with wordplay, cultural references ("Drugs killed my teen spirit / Welcome to Nirvana"; "Play musical chairs / Fred Astaire through these GTs") and ominous jabs ("Look at them / Him and him, still waitin' on Yeezy / I hope you got your squeegees / At your interviews, I just kiki").Album opener "The Birds Don't Sing," a soaring, piano-driven tribute to their late parents (who both passed away as the duo started work on the album), also serves as a reintroduction to Clipse themselves, brothers — in blood and in hip hop — brought back together by familial pain and loss. Although there are a few tracks where they rap alone. From the outset, the album is chock-full of features and guest appearances by artists who you know mononymously: Kendrick on "Chains & Whips," Tyler on "P.O.V.," Pharrell on five tracks, The-Dream on "All Things Considered," and undeniable GOAT candidate Nas on "Let God Sort Em Out/Chandeliers." Certified icon Stevie Wonder even makes a spoken-word appearance on the aforementioned "The Birds Don't Sing," which also features Legend and the Voices of Fire choir, who themselves guest on five tracks. The throbbing "Chains & Whips" surveys the current lab-rat landscape of rap, where MCs obsessively chase the high of diamonds, cash and exposure. Its apocalyptic thesis is expressed by both Pusha T ("You'd think it'd be valour amongst veterans / I'm watchin' your fame escape relevance," a line which could be applied to any number of MCs) and Kendrick, who will never go gentle into that good night ("I'm not the candidate to vibe with / I don't fuck with the kumbaya shit").When not spinning new metaphors for dealing, the album's lyrics are obsessed with the collapse of authenticity and skill in hip-hop, with clout-chasing poseurs and irrelevant hacks constantly berated and disintegrated ("All I see is 60-day stars and 20-year thousandaires"). Sometimes, these dilettantes get name-checked with no reservation, but often, their existence is merely alluded to — as if they don't deserve to be called out directly on a Clipse album. They exist, and it pisses the duo off, but that's as much as they'll get. Still, it's not all mega-superstars and legends: Ab-Liva, from Clipse's Re-Up Gang side project, shows up on "Inglorious Bastards," while Syracuse's Stove God Cooks adds a syrupy hook to "F.I.C.O." The eclecticism of the features shows the duality of Clipse — on one hand, as a legacy act working with one of the world's most famous and sought-after producers, they have undeniable mainstream appeal; on the other, the intricacy of their labyrinthine rhymes demands close listening, scrutiny and patience. These tracks are not 90 percent hook, nor do they lean into molasses-mouthed mumbles. This is fucking rapping, and it is relentless. Having split with producing partner Chad Hugo, solo Pharrell cooks up beats that clearly reject the pop-and-kid-friendly work he's been releasing as of late. "Happy" this most certainly ain't; instead, the music is fractured, minimal, driven, sombre and terrifying. Skeletal boom bap production has always been his approach with Clipse (lest we forget "Grindin'") and Let God Sort Em Out is no different." P.O.V." features numerous flips and turns, with sinister synths, spacey ambience, and silence all helping to define the respective verses. Tyler, the Creator even manages to hold his own, albeit barely, with some of his most inventive lines to date ("My n***a Push keep dirty white moving like mosh pits"). With its Auto-Tuned chorus, bubbling keys, clacking percussion, and ghostly background coos, "All Things Considered" feels suspiciously like an estranged 808s and Heartbreaks B-side." M.T.B.T.T.F." (which stands for "Mike Tyson Blow to the Face") is pure '90s throwback, referencing the best of RZA. A cappellas open each verse before the samples swirl, the brothers dropping show-stopping lines like, "The Bezos of the nasal, that's case closed" (Pusha T) and "Imitation is flattery, they seem like us / But only 300 bricks can make you Leonidas" (Malice). With its horn blasts and distorted drums, "Inglorious Bastards" is a head-bopping, stomping beast, while "So Far Ahead" is a pummelling, gospel-tinged (by way of coke psychosis) slice of braggadocious perfection." Let God Sort Em Out/Chandeliers" features the album's best line ("Heat come, I'm De Niro / I got the safe house"), while Nas's self-aggrandizing verse is more than well-deserved. It's not his best-ever feature, but it's hard to disagree with his claims ("Single-handedly boosted rap to its truest place / Fuck speaking candidly, I alone did rejuvenate / Hip-hop into its newest place").And yet, it's not all inspired: I'm all for "So Be It" dissing Travis Scott, but its Middle Eastern-inspired beat (which samples heavily from Saudi artist Talal Madah's "Maza Akoulou") has zero variation, becoming a tedious, grating chore. The squealing "E.B.I.T.D.A." feels incomplete and demo-like, an unnecessary two-minute interlude, while album closer "By the Grace of God" is saccharine and anti-climactic, ending the proceedings with a whisper. By this point in the record, the Pharrell-sung choruses have definitely grown thin. While their writing is beyond impressive as always, it's the brothers' respective flows that leave something to be desired: with very little variation throughout the album, the delivery grows a bit repetitive. Pusha T's snarls, growls and voice changes are too few and far between, and since the vitriol is on the page, it should be dispensed accordingly. The mafioso flexes also get a wear thin, especially coming from two middle-aged MCs who can still rip contemporary rappers to shreds and don't need to resort to this much fantasy. It's not the classic many of us were hoping for, but Let God Sort Em Out is a bombastic, unhinged and bitter reflection on modern hip-hop from two of the game's most creative and vicious MCs. Unlike Hell Hath No Fury, it's not perfect, but it opens the door for more Clipse — and that's something to get excited about. Other MCs, take note and beware: the kings are back, and they're sorting.