[Intro] Yeah Round one Little fish, big problem You two drew wrong [Verse 1] I’m Qwilfish, little bastard with a mouth full of spite, Eight types hit me soft, only three get it right. Spikes on my skin, Poison Point in the mix, Try to put hands on me, now you’re poisoned and sick. I’m a mine in the water, every angle got bite, Tiny punk with a temper, yeah, I’m ready to fight. Two names on the bracket, both perfect for me, Rock gets drowned, grass gets dropped chemically. Sudowoodo… Wait, you’re supposed to be a tree? Then why the fuck does a little rain make you wanna flee? Forest gets a shower, every plant comes alive, Meanwhile fake Pinocchio’s just fighting to survive. You stand by the roadside pretending you’re wood, Really selling that disguise, man, you’re doing so good. Till a cloud rolls in, now you’re scared of the rain, A fake tree running for shelter — that’s fucking insane. And what the fuck are those hands supposed to be? Three green balls on each side hanging off of a tree? With those three-ball fingers, you can’t scratch your nose— Oh wait, you ain’t got one. No nose, no fingers, just a face looking rough, Game Freak skipped half the features and said, “Yeah, that’s enough.” Not sure if you’re a hot dog forgotten under the sun, Or a weird dick that someone put a brown condom on. Yeah, your physique looks great — if ugly won first place, Six green balls for hands and a dick for a face. Your whole gimmick is lying, your name tells it too, Pseudo-wood — Game Freak straight-up named the fraud in you. I don’t need an axe, don’t need fire, don’t care, One Water-type move and your whole forest disappears. [Hook] I’m small, I’m pissed, I’m covered in spikes, Come close if you want, see how Poison Point bites. Eight types resisted, only three hit me clean, And I duel. One gets washed, one gets poisoned by me, Random roll looked less like a fight than a feeding spree. I’m small, I’m pissed, little punk with a grin, Round one just started — where the fuck do I begin? [Verse 2] Now Sunkern… Nah. I almost feel bad. Mathieu, what the fuck did you do to deserve that? That ain’t a Pokémon, bro, that’s something I’d put in a salad. Thirty HP. Thirty Attack. Thirty Defense. Thirty everything. Game Freak looked at that stat spread and said, “Yeah. Ship it.” I could Poison Jab, but that feels kinda cruel, Like bringing a shotgun to a kindergarten duel. I’m scared if I hit you, I won’t just end your life, I’ll poison your kids three generations down the line. Matter fact, forget fighting, I got better use for you, Drop you in my aquarium — fish food will do. Maybe sprinkle you on lunch, give the salad some crunch, You weren’t rolled for a battle, you were rolled for brunch. And Chlorophyll? Oh, that’s adorable, champ. Double that Speed when the sunlight gets amped. Thirty becomes sixty — holy shit, what a threat, Game Freak gave you a turbo and you’re still slow as shit. That ability feels less like a buff than a roast, Like the devs knew the joke and just wanted it exposed. “Here, double his Speed! Maybe now he can run!” Then watched Sunkern struggle at sixty in the sun. [Verse 3] Don’t mistake being little for being harmless, I inflate, shoot quills, leave poison where your guard is. Toxic Spikes on the floor, every switch gets taxed, I don’t chase motherfuckers, I make the whole field a trap. Sudowoodo sees rain and starts fearing the sky, Sunkern sees sunlight just to barely get by. One pretends he’s a plant, one ain’t grown into one, And somehow I’m the fish making both of you run. Eight resistances packed in this angry little frame, Only Ground, Psychic, Electric hit me for pain. You two got weaknesses matching my STAB, So whoever rolled this bracket did me a favor real bad. And if somehow you manage to put Qwilfish down, Destiny Bond — guess who’s coming underground? That’s punk rules, bitch, I don’t die with grace, If I’m leaving this battle, I’m taking one of you with me anyway. [Hook] I’m small, I’m pissed, I’m covered in spikes, Come close if you want, see how Poison Point bites. Eight types resisted, only three hit me clean, And I duel. One gets washed, one gets poisoned by me, Random roll looked less like a fight than a feeding spree. I’m small, I’m pissed, little punk with a grin, Round one is over — faster than I imagined. [Outro] Fake tree. Bird food. Eight resistances. And somehow I’m supposed to be worried? Come touch the spikes.
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