[Intro — spoken over a nasty bass groove] Yo… Check the fit. Check the walk. Check the vibe. Uh-huh… I'm aurapilled. [Verse 1] Walked in late with my shades on low, Didn't say a word but my aura said “hello.” Everybody looking like, “Who’s that guy?” I'm aura farming, baby, don't ask why. Fresh shoes squeaking, confidence high, One little stumble — negative aura, goodbye. Friend said, “Bro, that haircut's kinda chopped.” I said, “Fairs,” then the bassline dropped. [Pre-Chorus] I'm not lucky, I'm aurapilled, Not confused — just 404 coded. If the room gets weird, I don't complain, I just let him cook and catch the train. [Chorus] I'm AURAPILLED! — feel that glow, Got imaginary aura points to blow. W aura! — that's what they say, I lose ten points every time I walk the wrong way. AURAPILLED! — can't bring me down, Even when I'm cooked, I still wear the crown. Call me sigma, call me what you will, I'm walking through the chaos — aurapilled! [Verse 2] Boss starts talking — I'm cortisol-coded, Three emails deep and my brain's overloaded. Phone starts buzzing: “Bro, where you at?” I answer 67 — imagine that. Someone's glazing, saying I'm the man, I'm bragmaxxing harder than a one-man band. Someone says, “That's fake — that's AI!” I strike a pose and just walk on by. [Bridge — stripped-down bass + handclaps] Birds… for some reason. Nobody knows why. TLPUR in the group chat, Everybody asks, “Why?” I'm glitch-walking down the avenue, NPCs freeze when I enter the room. I got brain rot in a velvet suit, Too much aura and absolutely no proof. [Breakdown — call and response] Who's got aura? ME! Who's got points? ME! Who's completely cooked? …Also me! Who's chopped? Not today! Who's aurapilled? ALL DAY! [Final Chorus] I'm AURAPILLED! — feel that glow, Got imaginary aura points to blow. W aura! — hear the crowd go wild, I'm bragmaxxing with a thousand-yard smile. AURAPILLED! — nothing is real, 67 is apparently how I feel. When the whole damn world starts losing its chill, I just shake my shoulders and— AURAPILLED! [Outro — bass building] Fairs… Let him cook… Don't ask questions… It's 67. Bass hit. (Aurapilled., baby...!) [Outro — bass fading]
