There is something about hearing Clipse come back that feels like the past got reupholstered. Chains & Whips does not bend to trends.
It spits on them. You can sense that Paris Louis Vuitton session lingering in the beat, that cold minimalist groove Pharrell handed them like a blade.
The track stays bare enough to let every line bruise. You hear it in Pusha T’s first hook, a family jab turned mantra: “Uncle said, you must be sick, all you talk about is getting rich, choke my neck and ice my bitch, beat the system with chains and whips.”
That is not a shiny come-up flex. It is a smirk at the cycle. Be the system’s slave or be the master. Pick your poison but it will taste like metal either way.
No Malice’s lines drip with the weight he has carried since the duo’s last run.
He made it plain — he had to sit down, take his beatings, read what God had to say about who he really was, not the myth he sold.
That conviction shapes every bar here. When he raps about too much enamel on chains, he is sneering at cheap flash that tries to pass as legacy.
He spells out the difference between buying status and building something worth leaving behind.
“You buy watches, I buy collections.” That is not just about jewellery. It is a mind wired to think long, not loud.
And then there is Kendrick. His verse lands like a confession that hip-hop forgot its own elders.
“Let’s be clear, hip-hop died again, half of my profits may go to Rakim.” He is not just grieving the past; pointing a finger at the industry’s clout-chasers who bury pioneers for clicks and endorsement deals.
There is no apology in his voice when he says he will send you back to the cosmics.
It is a threat delivered as scripture, nodding at the debt hip-hop still owes its foundation.
Fans have already started pulling the lyrics apart. The talk on Reddit and fan breakdowns tie bars like “valor amongst veterans” straight to Jim Jones, a veteran who has traded shots with Pusha T before.
The connection goes deeper when you notice that Nas, another target in Jones’s feud cycle, appears on this same album.
It is no accident. One line can hit three necks if you read it right.
The line about the “spirit of repossession” is not just poetry either, fan deep dives point at Jim Jones’s old house repossession and how that sting of real-life pride sold cheap still lingers under Pusha’s delivery.
That “chasing a feature out of your element” bar could be about any rapper co-sign-hopping to stay relevant.
Pusha’s point is simple. Valor should live amongst veterans, not get sold to the highest bidder.
And when he drops “The lab diamonds under inspection, the question marks block your blessings,” it lands like a final pat-down.
No tombstones in the desert. You die out here and your legacy gets buried in sand, not stone.
Look at the production. Pharrell did not dust off that Neptunes sound for nostalgia’s sake.
He stripped it down and let just enough echo and tension soak through.
The bass holds steady like a heartbeat while that squeak — that sliding chirp — floats above it like a ghost.
The empty space is the point. Sometimes less is more when you want people to focus on the threat in your words instead of the sugar in your hook.
Clipse do not sweeten anything. They keep it cold enough to preserve every confession, every caution, every shot.
What seals it is how it came together. Another Paris LV session, another moment where they were told they might not even belong on a best MCs list.
Pusha put that in the open — if his name is up for debate, the verse is the answer.
“Me, out of 50 MCs, I was one of the people questioned if I should even be on the list.” He never needed permission.
When he says “We all in the room, but here is the elephant. You chasing a feature out of your element,” it is the softest kind of execution.
Meanwhile, the rollout fed the tension. The drop was an Apple Music exclusive for a few hours, landing at 11PM before Spotify got it at midnight.
Fans called out the short window as random but it played perfectly into the vibe, letting Clipse get their word out before the rest of the streaming world even caught up.
Some want this track to be the next great diss. Others hear it as a kind of self-surgery. The truth is it does both.
The verses spit venom at anyone living rented lives but also pull back the curtain on the men saying them.
The faith, the bruises, the caution. And they still leave enough unsaid that fans can chew on every line for weeks.
So go ahead. Find who you think they are gutting. Or just sit with the weight of it.
Either way, the beat does not care if you figure it out. It leaves you with more than you came with.
What does Chains & Whips mean to you? For Clipse and Kendrick, it is not just flexing.
It is legacy, reminders, and the same chains they once wore locked right back on the system’s neck.
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Clipse ft. Kendrick Lamar Chains & Whips Lyrics
Chorus: Pusha T
Uncle said, “Nigga, you must be sick
All you talk about is just gettin’ rich”
Choke my neck, nigga, and ice my bitch
Beat the system with chains and whips
This is culturally inappropriate
Verse 1: Pusha T
You run from the spirit of repossession
Too much enamel covers your necklace
I buy bitches, you buy ’em sections
You buy watches, I buy collections
Misery’s fuelin’ your regression
Jealousy’s turned into obsession
Reality TV is mud wrestlin’
Some signed checks, I know better than
Beware of my name, that there is delicate
You know I know where you’re delicate
Crush you to pieces, I’ll hum a breath of it
I will close your Heaven for the hell of it
You’d think it’d be valor amongst veterans
I’m watchin’ your fame escape relevance
We all in the room, but here’s the elephant
You chasin’ a feature out of your element
And those lab diamonds under inspection
The question marks block your blessings
There’s no tombstones in the desert
I know by now you get the message
Chorus: Pusha T
Uncle said, “Nigga, you must be sick
All you talk about is just gettin’ rich”
Choke my neck, nigga, and ice my bitch
Beat the system with chains and whips
Verse 2: Malice
It don’t take much to put two and two
Your lucky streak is now losin’ you
Money’s dried up like a cuticle
You’re gaspin’ for air now, it’s beautiful
John 10:10, that’s my usual
Mamas is fallin’ out in funerals
Embalmed and bloat, they now viewin’ you
They never find the guns, but the sewers do
Bubbles was sick, he need medicine
Brought him back to life, now he dead again
Richard don’t make watches for presidents
Just a million trapped between skeletons
This the darkest that I ever been
The diamonds make you taste peppermint
You ain’t thrive in the snow like it’s The Revenant
And send orders back down and keep shovelin’
Chorus: Pusha T
Uncle said, “Nigga, you must be sick
All you talk about is just gettin’ rich”
Choke my neck, nigga, and ice my bitch
Beat the system with chains and whips
Post-Chorus: Pharrell Williams & Kendrick Lamar
Oh yeah, when things get dark and your number get called
And you look side to side like, “What did they say?”
And it ain’t the Lord’s voice and then you realize
That the Devil is talkin’ to you (Hm)
Verse 3: Kendrick Lamar
I’m not the candidate to vibe with
I don’t fuck with the kumbaya shit
All that talent must be godsent
I send yo’ ass back to the cosmics
The things I’ve seen under my eyelids
Kaleidoscope dreams, murder, and sirens
Let’s be clear, hip-hop died again
Half of my profits may go to Rakim
How many Judases that let me down?
But fuck it, the West mines, we right now
Therapy showed me how to open up
It also showed me I don’t give a fuck
The two-time Gemini with the genocide
I’m generous, however you want it, I’ll be the gentle kind
Gentlemen and gangstas connect, the agenda of mine
Move niggas up outta here, this shit get gentrified
Heavy genes like Genovese,I’ll drop your Pentagon
Then show up at your at your gender reveal and tell ’em give me mine
I son niggas, I am the general, where my gin and juice?
Every song is the book of Genesis, let the sonics boom
Niggas want the tea on me, well, here’s the ginger root
I generate residuals, bitch, get off my genitals
They said I couldn’t reach Gen Z, you fuckin’ dickheads
You must be full of that ginseng, here comes the jinx, yeah
They genetics been synthetic, screamin’ they genius
A finger wave, they all fall, niggas is Jenga
God gave me light, a good year full of free will
Trump card, told me not to spare your life, motherfucker
Outro: Pharrell Williams
Oh yeah, when things get dark and your number get called
And you look side to side like, “What did they say?”
And it ain’t the Lord’s voice and then you realize
That the Devil is talkin’ to you