Shallipopi has stepped into a new era with the release of AURACLE, a sprawling 22-track album that feels less like a project and more like a proclamation.
With this release, the Edo-born star completes the trilogy he unknowingly began with Planet Pluto, carried through Presido La Pluto, and sharpened on Shakespopi.
If those earlier works were him breaking into the mansion of Nigerian music, Auracle is him rearranging the furniture comfortably and confidently, like the rightful owner.
The title itself, a fusion of aura and oracle, hints at what he wants the world to understand: his rise isn’t a coincidence; it’s prophecy made manifest.
Across its lengthy runtime, Shallipopi doubles down on the “Afro-pluto” formula that catapulted him to fame, with amapiano log drums rumbling beneath playful, nursery-rhyme hooks and streetwise musings delivered in his signature relaxed drawl.
But this time, the sound carries a sheen that wasn’t there before. Auracle is louder, richer, and more finely sculpted than the lo-fi chaos that defined his early jams.
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The production leans heavily into hypnotic repetition, yet the mixing and mastering add a new level of sophistication. Take “Laho,” for instance; the lead single pulses with complex synth layers that push his sonic universe into something more futuristic, more intergalactic.
Even with the upgrades, the edges aren’t completely smoothed out; that gritty authenticity remains, preserving the street-born appeal at the heart of Shallipopi’s artistry. It’s a careful dance between polish and rawness, one that surprisingly sustains the weight of 22 tracks.
Then come the features, which speak louder than any press release.
On HIM, Atlanta rapper Gunna slides in seamlessly, merging trap sensibilities with Nigerian street-hop so effortlessly you’d think both worlds were always meant to collide.
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And on the remix of Laho, Burna Boy arrives like a king blessing a rising prince. Burna’s gravelly command contrasts Shallipopi’s airy delivery, forming an irresistible push-and-pull that is destined to dominate December parties.
These collaborations don’t feel like attempts at global visibility; they feel like global validation of a sound only he could have created.
Lyrically, Shallipopi still operates in that enigmatic pocket where simple lines become cultural mantras. His Benin-infused slang, his street-coded poetry, and his offhanded chants are not meant to be dissected on paper. They’re meant to be felt.
Yet Auracle also reveals flashes of introspection: the pressure of fame, shifting friendships, sudden wealth, and the loneliness that hides behind loud success.
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He knows his style alienates purists, and he has come to terms with that. The album feels like a message to his loyal fanbase—the “Plutomanias”—assuring them that he’s still speaking directly to them, not to the critics.
In the end, Auracle plays like a victory lap stretched into a full marathon. Even with a few tracks that don’t hit as hard, the highs are sky-level.
The album reinforces what his fans already believe: the Pluto movement wasn’t a fluke, a flash, or a trend. It’s a permanent shift in the Afrobeats ecosystem.
Shallipopi didn’t just enter the game—he built his own universe. And with AURACLE, the Presido remains firmly in office. The polls? Still rising.
Listen to Auracle HERE.