hell-hath-no-fury

Coke-rap, for the most part, has always been dominated by materialistic hedonism, self-indulgent braggadocio, nihilistic street codes and relentless drug trafficking tales. But even the best of these records have had their contemplative moments.

Raekwon and Ghostface lamented their perilous lifestyle on “Striving for Perfection,” AZ reflected on the futility of the drug game in “Doe or Die,” Jay-Z expressed doubt and insecurities with “Regret” and even Biggie mourned his friend’s death with “Miss You.”

Well, not with Pusha T and Malice. Oh no. Not these guys. Clipse are the devil-incarnate of coke-rap. Soulless, unremorseful and cold-blooded. And they’re loving every fleeting moment of it.

Hell Hath No Fury is bleak, desolate and dark. The crack-dealing operation is all they know, and they’re good at it. The fact that the two brothers sound almost identical in rhyme syntax and vocal pitch only adds to the record’s empty vibe, the lyrics delivered through steely scowls and posturing stares.

Behind the vocals, The Neptunes deliver their most disciplined production job yet. Sparse, lean, electro boom-bap is all there is to Hell Hath No Fury, but when you hear Pusha T and Malice glamorise about the glitz and glam over stripped down synths and eerie thumps, you won’t be able to turn it off.

Granted, the record never delves beyond the materialistic lifestyles, drug-dealing manuals and vicious braggadocio. But in terms of incredible wordplay and taut beats, there’s no competition. As crude as the content may be, thanks to the production team, Hell Hath No Fury may be coke-rap’s most accessible records ever.

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Written by Hao Nguyen
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