(Beat drops - a classic boom-bap, slightly aquatic feel) Yo, check the mic, one two, it's the Tide Biter in the house! See that scurvy dog, Pirate of Eight, still runnin' his mouth? He think he slick, he think he tough, with that cannon on his arm, But every time he blasts, I just laugh and keep myself warm. The Joke's On You, Matey He aims for my crew, a broadside comin' in hot, Sees the tank up front, thinks he's gonna hit the jackpot. Then that Blast ability, yeah, it's supposed to spread the pain, Splashin' damage all around like a sudden summer rain. But then he looks confused, his eye patch starts to twitch, 'Cause that blast wave hits me, and it doesn't leave a hitch! No damage taken, nada, zero, not a single scratch, Just me grinnin' in the back, watchin' him throw a temper match. Crowd Check! Alright, alright, can I get a little somethin' from the crowd?! Heave! (Crowd: Ho!) Heave! (Crowd: Ho!) Heave! (Crowd: Ho!) Everybody in the back of the ship, can you hear me? Are you guys good back there? Make sure you tip your bartenders! Anyway, back to the track! Still Laughing You swing your hook, you curse the sea, you're lookin' mighty vexed, While I'm chillin' with my tank, completely unperplexed. You thought you had me, didn't ya? Thought you had the upper hand? But in this Splinterlands fight, I'm the king of the land! So go on, Pirate, keep on blastin', waste your energy, Your futile efforts just seal your unfortunate fate. Tide Biter in the cut, laughin' all the way to the win, While Pirate of Eight just sits there, confused where to begin. (Beat fades out with a final splash sound and a knowing chuckle)
