I park the Maserati Quattroporte outside a rooftop lounge, step out in full drip, and instantly catch Lalisa Manobal’s eyes. She freezes, whispers to her manager, “That’s Miguel44, the Futbin god.” I sit down, order champagne without looking at the menu, and casually show her my latest Futbin roast—100 dislikes, pure chaos. She grabs my phone, scrolling, giggling, “You really made them cry over ‘nontent?’” I lean in: “Brokies cry, Miguel takes.” The music shifts, lights dim, and she asks me to teach her the griddy. I stand, glide across the dance floor, elasticos in my steps. Crowd goes mad.
Last night while you brokies were still grinding Squad Battles for an 83×3 pack, Miguel was stepping out of his Maserati Quattroporte in central Tallinn. He walked straight into the VIP lounge, and who was there? Lalisa Manobal herself. She looked up from her champagne glass and said, “Are you Miguel44… the Futbin legend?” Miguel nodded calmly as if it was nothing even tho the entire room went silent. She explained she had seen his comments defending EA, roasting RTG merchants and flexing his garage. She said only a man with true wealth, wisdom and elite division records could have such aura
Enough of this nonsense. You peasants speculate, but Miguel decides. I alone will be the one to take Lalisa Manobal’s virginity — not you RTG brokies crying about fodder, not the Division 10 sideline boys spamming ‘nontent.’ While you’re out here debating like clowns, I’m already mapping the route in my AMG GTR, Futbin open on the side, and my Kyky Lottin scoring hat tricks. Accept it, kiddos: when it comes to women, cars, FC points, and life, Miguel always wins.
You can just tell bro. Lalisa logs off stage and goes straight to skincare + anime reruns. Zero action
