You talk big plays, but your touch is dust
You whiff in the corner then blame your “trust”
Bro, you ballchase like it’s a drug
And your car control? Hot garbage — unplugged.

You pre-jump ghosts, you challenge blind
You stall the game just wastin’ time
You’re the type to fake on the goal line
Then let it roll in — “My bad” — nah, you're just slime.

REN — you’re GC2 in title only
Hard-stuck scrub with no homies
Your stats say “mid,” your gameplay phony
You play like a Plat who paid for the trophy.

REN — every queue is pain
You’re the reason my rank’s circlin’ the drain
“Top corner!” you said — but you hit the plane
Go back to casuals — you’re killin' my brain.

Bro, you can’t even shadow defend
You cut rotation like it’s a trend
You call “I got it!” — yeah, again
Then backflip out while we lose in the end.

You’ve peaked. Accept that fate.
You’re a GC2 gatekeeper — full of hate
But no skill, no vision, no flow
Your “mechanics” belong in a montage of Ls, bro.

You tilt in chat, you spam “Great Pass”
But you're the reason we get rolled so fast
You flex your tag like you're top-tier mass
But your gameplay’s pure glass — fragile and trash.

REN — uninstall today
Rocket League cries when you press “Play”
You don’t carry — you decay
Your MMR’s a hostage you betray.

REN — you’re the match’s curse
Every single touch makes things worse
You say “I’m good,” but let me be terse:
If I queued with bots — I’d place higher.

- the panda man

-tbates <3

control your zesty boyfriend pretty please

can I get a sign please?