THE HARD 10: #5 Clipse – Hell Hath No Fury (2007)

The HARD 10 are ten of the most graphic albums ever released that all left an indelible mark upon the listener and the industry as a whole. Do enjoy these tales and songs, and carry their power into your life, finding their unrepentant aggression to be as emotionally valuable as tears.

Virginia isn’t for lovers, it’s for hustlers – Clipse is proof. Malice and Pusha T’s babyfaces mask two of the bluntest minds and model two of the most cold-blooded mouths in the game. Hell hath no fury like a kingpin’s scorn, and Hell Hath No Fury is these kingpins’ scorn.

The Neptunes trademark intergalactic beats are the soft Cavalli furs to the Thornton brother’s hard Pyrex stirred product. Steel drums, Moet chimes, handclaps, are as much a backdrop of the album as the grunts, off-beat bass, and requiem-esque strings. Tracks like Wamp, Wamp (What It Do) and Mr. Me Too lyrically play off the proverbial “sweet” life of a Coke king “We don’t chase a duck, we only raise the bucks. Peel money rolls until our thumbs get the papercuts. Children totto, South Beach Gallardo Teals started up, go brr like it’s Nardo,” over tropical Caribbean beats. As any dope boy knows though: it’s Cocaine in the sweets, but Crack in the streets and Clipse brings the South Beach suites to street status on the sophomore release too.


The Clipse let you know full well that they grip the Gallardo grain in the gutter as much as they do in South Beach. Hard is hustling Rock at an age where your peers are still sucking on Rock Candy: “I listen to the beat, and the rhyme is wrote. See, I was 16, eyes full of hope. Bagging up grams at the higher dough. The news called it crack, I called it Diet Coke (Oh!)” Again, The Neptunes back the banter with solid beats – macabre bass heavier than the weight Malice and T push across state lines, so deep it envelops whole tracks.

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Like White Pony dove into the darkest parts of “love” to twist perception, Clipse’s Hell Hath is as much a street anthem as it is a soundtrack for Virgina’s lovers slogan. The Thorntons can take or leave women: “Keys in the floor, mistress in Dior; Bitch tell me she love me, but I know she’s a whore,” because Kis will forever hold the keys to Clipse’s hearts: “Bitch never cook my coke! Why? Never trust a ho with your child.” Keys open doors. That’s real talk. Virginia is for lovers – and Clipse loves the hustle. Lil’ Wayne goes hard when he wants, but people get hooked on his clever wordplay. Most southern rappers are witty wordsmiths, whereas most east coast rappers are as blunt as a Philly wrap – classic style versus substance. Clipse has the best of both worlds settling in the Mid-Atlantic, for all of their quick witted lines about the high life, they have stark stances on the dark heat of a hellacious urban environment: “The judge is sayin’ life like it ain’t someone’s life.”


At the end of the day Hell Hath No Fury comes hardest as a package, as opposed to individual tracks – like a brick to a ball. The hardest part of the album is that nothing escapes the ominous overcast of a nightmare veiled as a dream – which is the story of their lives. What is success? What is failure? The penthouse ends are only as glorious as their gutter Pyrex means: “The cars is big, the cribs is bigger. The kids are happy, the perfect picture/ Gem Star razor, the fruit of my labor/ And I walk with a glow, it’s like the Lord’s shown favor/ These bitches fake like the hoes on Flavor/ But I don’t mind spending, all it is is paper! Yes!”


A diamond is only coal with decades worth of pressure; crack is just cocaine with water and baking soda. Value is dependent on perceived worth – Clipse comes hard with Hell Hath because from the corner to the crown the most valued entity hasn’t created anything but a crop of paper gangstas.