The Tryhard CS2 Player:

He warms up aim for hours straight,
Practicing till it's past too late.
Crosshair placed, his wrist locked tight,
Dreaming of that perfect fight.

Ranks don’t matter—only skill,
He top-frags just to flex his will.
Callouts crisp, his strats are grand,
But still, he blames his “bot” teammates’ hands.

Sweat drips down, the clutch is near,
One-vs-five, he shows no fear.
Yet all it takes—a misthrown nade,
And boom—his comeback dream’s delayed.

But next round starts, he’s locked back in,
Determined still that he will win.

What does the Turkish camel sausage taste like for breakfast? It's called deve sucuk.

Nöriyim sen nörüyon

Ayıp ettin kral

okay love in the account <3 great man please send putin for SBBS family

friendly mate