So Be It Lyrics Meaning: Clipse’s Biblical Reckoning and Dynasty’s Return

Clipse's Let God Sort Em Out album artwork — Clipse’s Let God Sort Em Out album artwork

After fifteen years of silence, Clipse emerges from the shadows with So Be It, a track that reads like a biblical reckoning delivered through Virginia Beach street gospel.

The song serves as the second single from their forthcoming album Let God Sort Em Out, and it’s immediately clear that Pusha T and No Malice haven’t lost a step—they’ve simply been sharpening their blades.

The Architecture of Intimidation

Pharrell’s sonic landscape first hits hard with the backwards 808s that roll like distant thunder while Middle Eastern strings weave through the mix, creating an atmosphere that feels both timeless and urgent.

It’s the kind of beat that makes you check your rearview mirror even when you’re sitting still.

The track unfolds through a careful construction of power dynamics and consequence.

When Pusha opens with those precise numbers—sixteen thousand here, millions there—he’s not just flexing.

He’s establishing hierarchy, mapping out territories both literal and metaphorical.

The precision suggests meticulous bookkeeping, whether we’re talking real estate portfolios or something more illicit.

Verse by Verse: Surgical Precision

Clipse’s approach here operates like a mob movie monologue, all quiet confidence and casual threats.

Pusha’s opening verse transforms personal history into mythology: the idea that his destiny was visible from birth elevates street hustle into something approaching divine appointment.

The euphemisms throughout cut deep. When Pusha talks about helping souls “free” themselves from bodies, there’s dark humour in the suggestion that elimination is actually a service.

It’s the kind of bar that makes you laugh nervously before the implications fully sink in.

The hook itself—“So be it, so be it”—carries the weight of finality. The phrase embodies resignation and threat rolled into four syllables, the verbal equivalent of a shrug before pulling a trigger.

One keen observer noted how this simple repetition becomes hypnotic, like a mantra of inevitability.

No Malice: The Philosopher’s Stone

No Malice’s contribution adds philosophical weight that elevates the track beyond simple intimidation.

His verse reads like riddles wrapped in warnings: the wordplay around authenticity and consequence builds toward inevitable conclusions about who belongs in these conversations.

“Can’t wrap your head around that, you ain’t Arab” operates on multiple levels, suggesting both intellectual limitation and cultural disconnection.

It’s the kind of line that rewards repeated listening, revealing new interpretations with each encounter.

The geographical references—Dallas, borders, movement—evoke the kind of operation that requires serious connections and serious consequences for mistakes.

The Travis Scott Situation: A Study in Disloyalty

Perhaps the most discussed aspect centres on the apparent shots at Travis Scott.

“You cried in front of me, you died in front of me / Calabasas took your bitch and your pride in front of me” reads like the settling of old scores.

The specificity of “Calabasas”—that particular enclave of wealth and celebrity—suggests Pusha witnessed something deeply personal, a moment of vulnerability or humiliation that stuck with him.

To understand the grievance, we need to trace back to the creation of “Meltdown.”

According to Pusha’s telling, Travis came to Pharrell’s Paris studio during Clipse’s recording sessions, played tracks from his upcoming album, but conveniently omitted Drake’s verse—the one that would later take shots at Pharrell about melting down his old jewelry.

From Pusha’s perspective, this was calculated deception: showing your cards while hiding the knife behind your back.

“Heard Utopia had moved right up the street / And her lip gloss was poppin’, she ain’t need you to eat” transforms Travis’s album title into a geographic taunt while referencing Kylie Jenner’s cosmetics empire.

The line suggests that her success made him expendable—a particularly cutting observation given the public nature of their relationship dynamics.

What emerges is Pusha’s portrait of Travis as someone who “don’t have no picks, no loyalty to nobody”—a man who’ll “jump around whatever he feels is hot.”

Whether you buy this characterisation depends on how you view industry politics and personal loyalty.

Some see Travis as savvy, playing all sides to maximise opportunities. Others view this as exactly the kind of opportunism that Pusha finds contemptible.

The broader question becomes: are these unwritten rules about respect and transparency still relevant in today’s industry?

Pusha clearly believes they are, and So Be It documents what happens when he perceives those codes have been violated.

The listener gets to decide whether this constitutes justified correction or old-school thinking struggling with new-school pragmatism.

The Power of Black and White

The accompanying music video strips away all colour, leaving stark black and white imagery that feels both timeless and deliberate.

Director Hannan Hussain transforms the track into something approaching cinema verité, with Pusha T and No Malice moving through opulent spaces—marble floors, grand staircases—that the monochrome treatment renders as temples of authority rather than mere luxury.

This aesthetic choice serves multiple purposes. It evokes classic mob films while stripping away temporal markers, making the video feel like it could have been shot yesterday or decades ago.

Particularly striking are the close-ups on jewelry and chains, rendered in sharp contrast that makes every diamond cut like broken glass.

The monochrome treatment transforms these status symbols from celebration into armour.

When the camera lingers on their faces, the absence of colour forces focus on expression, on the weight behind their words.

The video’s power lies in restraint—no flashy editing, no crowds of extras.

While contemporary rap videos chase neon colors and digital effects, Clipse opts for something that recalls photography’s golden age.

It’s the visual equivalent of speaking softly while carrying a very big stick, a statement about permanence in an industry obsessed with fleeting moments.

The Verdict: Resurrection and Reckoning

The track operates like a chess move announced several turns in advance, confident enough in its own power to telegraph its intentions.

This isn’t just a comeback—it’s a reminder of why they left such a void in the first place.

This feels like watching master craftsmen return to their workshop after years away, only to discover their skills have been sharpened rather than dulled by time. The precision is surgical, the confidence absolute.

The deeper implications suggest that some forms of power never truly diminish—they just wait for the right moment to reassert themselves.

The track serves as both warning and invitation: respect the architects of this sound, or become another cautionary tale in the chronicles they’re still writing.

In the end, that might be the most threatening prospect of all—not just being eliminated, but being forgotten, rendered irrelevant by the return of relevance itself.

So be it, indeed. Class is officially in session.

Clipse So Be It Lyrics

Intro: Pusha T
Sixteen thousand square
Eight million up there, two million down here

Verse 1: Pusha T
When I was born, grandmama could see it
I be Bentley driven and very strategic
R.M. sleeve, no diamonds are needed
Floors are heated, so be it, so be it
Fuckin’ with P, get somethin’ immediate
Your soul don’t like your body, we helped you free it
Then we wait for TMZ to leak it
It ain’t no secrets, so be it, so be it

Chorus: Pusha T
Smoke
So be it, so be it
Smoke
So be it, so be it

Verse 2: Pusha T
C-L-I-P-S-E, epi, 8-ball, LV
I can show you how to bust a brick if you lеt me
I monogram like confetti, switchеs ready
She leanin’ on Celine ’cause she ain’t steppin’ in Giuseppe
Catch a buck-fifty like each Pirelli
I got eight of ’em, call me Andretti
If I’m not in the telly sellin’ the yeti
Then I’m twirlin’ your bitch like she in spaghetti, heavy
Circle back and come and get this Kelly
And your ears too, if you want ’em blue like Belly
Lotta jettin’, Prada beddin’, 911s
I’m the who’s who with what’s what, papa heaven
Fuck around and get your body traced tryna test me
‘Cause niggas that I’m with like to draw when it’s sketchy
If they catch me, don’t forget me, resurrect me
Buy a dog tag the same place that they baguette me, ski
(This is culturally inappropriate)

Chorus: Pusha T
Smoke
So be it, so be it
Smoke
So be it, so be it

Verse 3: No Malice
You ain’t solid, ain’t valid, you ain’t Malice
Been quiet, ain’t riot, you ain’t Paris
Blow money, you owe money, we ain’t balanced
You ain’t believe, God did, you ain’t Khaled
All black, back to back, this ain’t traffic
Can’t wrap your head ’round that, you ain’t Arab
Y’all tweet, bird talk, we all parrots
Lone star, cross the border, we like Dallas
Twenty-one-gun salute, we been savage
Tag ’em up, add ’em up, them niggas average
Fly ’em in, fly ’em out, only the baddest
If I had her, then you had her, she never mattered
Wish upon the stars on my roof, they all scattered
Ain’t no more Neptunes, so P’s Saturn
Off the first ski-up, they re-up, it’s a pattern
Like middle men, they killin’ ’em, you know what happened, ski
(This is culturally inappropriate)

Chorus: Pusha T
Smoke
So be it, so be it
Smoke
So be it

Verse 4: Pusha T
You cried in front of me, you died in front of me
Calabasas took your bitch and your pride in front of me
Heard Utopia had moved right up the street
And her lip gloss was poppin’, she ain’t need you to eat
The ‘net gon’ call it the way that they see it
But I got the video, I can share and A.E. it
They wouldn’t believe it, but I can’t unsee it
Lucky I ain’t TMZ it, so be it, so be it
(This is culturally inappropriate)

Chorus: Pusha T
Smoke
So be it, so be it
Smoke
So be it, so be it