Your head? My crosshair’s home.
Your team? My warm-up.
Your confidence? My next victim.

When I hear footsteps, I don’t think “enemy”—I think “free elo.”

I’m not toxic.
I’m statistically intimidating.

I’m not arrogant.
I’m accurate about my greatness.

I’m not obsessed with winning.
Winning is obsessed with me.

They have strategies.
I have instinct.

They have teamwork.
I have the scoreboard

I have no room for humility because my ego already occupies every bombsite.

My footsteps are a warning.

My gunshots are a prophecy.

My reload is a temporary ceasefire.

My death is a statistical anomaly.