Pusha T, the more outspoken half of the Virginia Beach rap duo Clipse, has had little occasion to smile recently. In fact, he’s become sort of famous for the stoic scowl he has worn since his group’s sophomore album got into major-label limbo. But stepping onto the stage for Friday night’s sold-out show at the Knitting Factory – a rare appearance these days – he couldn’t help breaking into a broad grin.

A show like this weekend’s is good for an embattled artist’s self-confidence. It was put on by tastemaker magazine the Fader, and was overpacked. There was even talk of turning people on the guest list away as the set time approached. Clinton Sparks, the mix tape DJ who helped rescue Clipse from oblivion, stood in the wings in a silent show of support. The crowd was more boisterous: It whistled and rocked at the first sign of Clipse, and waved the Star Trak hand sign (a slight variation on the Vulcan one) with far more enthusiasm than Leonard Nimoy ever met with.

“Lord Willin’,” the group’s breakout (and Grammy-nominated) 2002 debut, was a collaboration with super producers the Neptunes, and a coming out party for their Star Trak label. The beats – minimalist click and grind and neo-Motown – were the perfect vehicle for Clipse’s buttery voices and menacing but nimble cocaine-dealer fairy tales. As the clangorous hit “Grindin'” demonstrated, the marriage held real mainstream potential.

Clipse was eager to capitalize on this auspicious beginning, and had a follow-up record – “Hell Hath No Fury” – in the bag. But their momentum ground to a sudden halt when Arista Records, the major label distributing Star Trak, was absorbed by Jive Records. Clipse was lost in the bureaucratic shuffle.

As the months of waiting stretched, painfully, into years, the duo decided to take its destiny into its own hands again (and blow off a little steam) with mixtapes. It’s a medium ideally suited to their raw talents. Borrowing and rhyming over other rappers’ beats – standard practice on mixtapes – allowed them to step out from the Neptunes’s long shadow. It also showed that they were capable of upstaging higher profile acts using their own beats, and when you’re talking about the likes of Dipset and T.I., that’s no small feat.

“We Got It for Cheap Vol. 1,” released in early 2005, re-energized Clipse’s fan base. More important, it re-energized the rappers themselves. “We Got It For Cheap Vol. 2,” which followed a few months later, was better than most official albums released last year. Most of Friday’s set was drawn from Vol. 2, and as on the mixtape, Clipse were joined by the physically towering – but lyrically dwarfed – rappers Liva and Sandman. Collectively, they call themselves the Re-Up Gang.

Clipse’s commercial travails have only strengthened their anti-commercial streak. “There’s a model for an album now and we go against that,” Pusha T recently told the Fader. “There’s a single, the club record, the girl record. But ‘Hell Hath’ is just one big-a- street record.” It’s also driven Pusha T deeper into his hard-core, word-bending flow. “We bringing lyrics back to the game,” he said from the stage Friday. “More lyrics, less charisma and s-.” This formula doesn’t always bode well for a live show, especially with mics as murky as those at the Knitting Factory. But on Friday night it didn’t matter; everyone already seemed to know all the lyrics.

This new focus on lyrics has prompted Pusha to focus more narrowly on a cocaine theme. Whereas “Lord Willin'” used coke references to gain street cred, Friday’s show raised the bar: “All the snow on the time piece confusing ’em / all the snow on the concrete Peruviain … follow the brick, I am Oz / Oh yes, the wizardry, fire-to-pot chemistry … got more white in the hood than KKK.” He can riff endlessly on the theme without ever repeating himself.

But as the set went on, Pusha dropped references to South American drug lords as a way of talking about getting back to the pure stuff, the source. “During the hiatus, I was with the natives / then back to the states, pass along the savings,” he rapped on a song called “Mic Check.” By the end, drugs and rap are interchangeable: “Put it in the street, catering to cravings / like the second coming got the fans awaiting.” For the moment, the fans got their fix.