Grand Theft Auto V
Grand Theft Auto V (GTA V) is a sandbox-style action-adventure game developed by Rockstar North. It is the second HD game in the Grand Theft Auto video game franchise and seventh original game overall.
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Man you a genetic experiment gone wrong dawg.
You bitches can fuck yo'self!
Well that's one way of looking at things.
A few weeks ago, I was happily retired, sulking by my swimming pool, and my psychotic best friend shows up out of nowhere to torture me over mistakes I made, honest mistakes I made over a decade ago!
We're all professional. We all know the score.
[During a robbery] Ladies and gentlemen! This is your moment! Please don't make me ruin all the great work your plastic surgeons have been doing!
[To Fabien, Amanda's yoga teacher] Na-ma-go fuck yourself!
Let's go people!
FUCK ALL YOU FUCKIN' FUCKS!!
Do you want me to get my dick out again?
My job. My score. Get your own.
[To Ron after yelling to him while hiding in his trailer] And bring me my coffee or I'm gonna cut your arm off!
- [Michael knocks on Lester's door and notices a camera aimed at him. Michael aims his middle fingers at it]
- Michael De Santa: Fuck you, Lester. You gonna let me in or what?
- Lester Crest: (through camera) Give me a minute!
- [The door opens and Michael enters]
- Tracey De Santa: (laughing) You guys are so lame!
- Michael De Santa: Out.
- Tracey De Santa: No! I'm watching Fame or Shame!
- Micheal De Santa: Tough fucking tits. Gimme that!
- [Michael and Tracey wrestle for the remote]
- Tracey De Santa: No, no!
- [Michael snatches the remote and Tracey stomps out of the living room, screaming as Michael sits down]
- Lamar Davis: Yo, can a loc come up in your crib?
- Franklin: Man, fuck you. I'll see you at work.
- Lamar: Aw nigga, don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful nigga! Maybe if you got rid'a that ol' yee-yee ass haircut you got you'd get some bitches on your dick. Oh, better yet: maybe Tanisha'll call your dog ass if she ever stops fuckin' with that brain surgeon or lawyer she's fuckin' with. Nigga. [Turns and leaves]
- Franklin: (Stands dumbstruck for a few seconds) WHAT?!
- Johnny Klebitz: Trevor! I'm talking to you, motherfucker!
- Trevor: Are you? What are you sayin'?
- Johnny: Fucking my girl, man. It's wrong.
- Trevor: Well, I gotta fuck someone. You want me to fuck you instead? Is that the problem here? Take off your pants, cowboy, alright? Let's... let's fuck.
- Johnny: You think this is funny?
- Trevor: Get them off!!
- Ron: I told him to leave it, Trevor. I told him. Leave it. Leave it.
- Trevor: Shut up, Ron. I'm about to fuck me a meth, ain't I, cowboy? Get my boy sucked from his toothless gums.
- Johnny: Fuck you, Trevor. I still love her.
- Trevor: Alright, cowboy. Hey, I know. Hey, c'mon. Shh... hey... [puts his arm around Johnny reassuringly].
- Johnny: I don't mean nothing by it, man. I just, I just...
- Trevor: I know.
- Johnny: I messed up.
- Trevor: I know, cowboy. I know, man. Gimme a hug, yeah... [hugs Johnny] Shh...
- [Trevor grabs Johnny by the neck and throws him to the ground, throws his beer bottle at Johnny's face, creating a large cut and begins to stomp on his head.]
- Trevor: [As he's stomping on Johnny's head] Fucking shit! Cunt! Cunt! Cunt! [Stomps one more time] Augh, cunt! [Stops stomping on his head] Who the fuck are you speaking to? Who? Who? I'm talking to you, huh? You fuck!
- Ashley Butler: Johnny!
- Trevor: Next time, don't get in my fucking face! I just saw a fucking ghost, and I've got to hear your crap?! Get up! Get up! [Realizing that he has killed Johnny] Fuck you, then! [Begins to walk to his truck angrily]
- [Ashley walks over to Johnny's body and holds him in her arms]
- Ashley: Johnny! [Begins weeping. Wade tries to walk over to comfort her]
- Ron: Wade. [Wade follows Ron and Trevor]
- Trevor: [Frustratingly] Fuck. Now we got to speak to Johnny's recently bereaved brothers.
- Michael: What do you want?
- Franklin: Just came by to see if there's somthin' I can help you with.
- Michael: I'm retired.
- Lester: You back into the game?
- Michael: I guess.
- Ron (over earpiece): Trevor..come in, come in!
- Trevor: I'll cum in your ear if you don't be quiet!
- Lamar: This is legit business.
- Franklin: 401k, tax return and all.
- Wade: [Sitting in Trevor’s truck bed while he drives] You need some seatbelts back here, or straps, or something.
- Trevor: I only keep things in the back I don't mind losing.
- Michael: You know, I've been thinking about you, Trevor. Your lifestyle.
- Trevor: Oh, have you? Really?
- Michael: Yes, I have. People always try to label you. You know, maniac, psycho...
- Trevor: ...friend, industry leader...
- Michael: In some ways you defy categorization. But then...
- Trevor: What?
- Michael: Think about it, where you live...
- Trevor: Sandy Shores, you precious ass. I'm sorry there ain't a place nearby for you to get your colonics.
- Michael: Right. But why are you out here?
- Trevor: It's off the grid. We're away from it all. It's somewhere real and authentic. This is America, and real people ain't been priced out yet.
- Michael: Yeah, well what if it get gentrified?
- Trevor: Then I'll fucking move!
- Michael: Okay, what about the way you dress?
- Trevor: What about it? I don't give a shit what I wear.
- Michael: No, no. No. If you don't give a shit, you wear clean clothes that fit. See, yours are all a little out there. A little wacky.
- Trevor: Whatever's in the shop, is what I get. Jesus, what is this!?
- Michael: It's not an absence of taste, T. It's the opposite of taste.
- Trevor: You should be a stylist.
- Michael: And then there's the tattoos, the hair, the weird music, the funny toys, the niche drugs, the everything.
- Trevor: What the fuck are we talking about?
- Michael: You... are a hipster!
- Trevor: What?
- Michael: You're a hipster.
- Trevor: I hate hipsters.
- Michael: Classic hipster denial.
- Trevor: I abhor hipsters! I eat them for fun.
- Michael: Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters.
- Trevor: Well, I really fucking do!
- Michael: Self hatred. Common hipster affliction.
- Trevor: Only because I'm living out here away from the Bean Machines, and the bankers!?
- Michael: You're gentrifying. Soon, the skinny jeans will show up, then the skinny lattes, and then the bankers. And you'll be somewhere else starting the cycle all over again. Maybe you're not a classic garden variety hipster, but you're what the hipsters aspire to be. You, Trevor, are the proto-hipster!
- Trevor: I don't know what you're talking about. I don't agree with what you're saying. You're talking bullshit. And you're trying to wind me up. And I'm very, very angry and I want this conversation to stop right away.
- Michael: Hipster.
- Trevor: Fuck you! Fuck you, Michael! Say it again!
- Michael: I've made my point. I'm not a sadist.
- Ron: Trevor about?
- Michael: He’s probably out somewhere drinking human blood or… eating household pets.
- Ron: He’s not that bad.
- Michael: (Sarcastically) Really?
- Ron: (Sighs) Well, okay. He is pretty bad, but he’s got a sensitive side.
- Michael: Oh yes, he’s very sensitive. When he gets his feelings hurt he’s devastated. So what’s your story?
- Ron: I ain’t got a story. I’m… an independent thinker. Living out here, away from the man. From what I can tell, you’re like a high school athlete living off old glories. You used to be able to manage heat and now you’re worried if your loafers are getting scuffed.
- [Michael motions for Ron to come closer, Ron complies]
- Michael: Any more bullshit comes out of your mouth, you’re gonna learn all about my “past glories” first hand. You understand?
- Ron: (Backs away very nervously) Absolutely sir. That came out wrong, all wrong.
- Hipster: [Talking on his iFruit phone] I'm talking about something that's very much post, post irony. But he wouldn't understand that, he's a typical Lost Santos self-hating hipster. I told him I would make a movie about his ass and call it "Cunts in America", but that would be the post-ironic use of the word cunt, both offensive, and at the same time curiously anodyne...
- [Trevor snatches the hipster's phone and smashes it]]
- Hipster: What the fuck!?
- Trevor: [Points at his t-shirt, which reads "Yes, you are a motherfucker"]] I find your t-shirt more than a little offensive. If there's one thing I cannot stand, it's post... ironic... hipsters!
- Hipster: If you don't like it, you can go back to Canada, dude! [Shoves Trevor] Come on, you want a piece of me, huh? [Trevor picks up a shotgun and aims at the hipster ] Oh wait, oh fuck! Oh fuck!
- Trevor: Run, you little fuck!
- [Trevor then begins raging and rampaging against all oncoming hipsters]
- [Two Fort Zancudo soldiers are attempting to repair their broken down Crusader]
- Soldier #1: It's gonna strip the screw there.
- Soldier #2: I can't put the cap on there.
- Soldier #1: No, it's a nut, man. You just screw it back on... [Notices Trevor walking past them] Hey, what are you doing here, citizen? I said what are you doing here, citizen?
- Trevor: Nothin'.
- Soldier #1: Oh, I'm sorry. You're clearly a tourist. From our friends from up north, eh, aboot.
- Trevor: We don't even say it like that!
- Soldier #1: There's a moose loose aboot the hoose!
- Soldier #2: ...hoose! [They both start laughing] Fuck off you hoser, eh!
- [Trevor takes out a grenade launcher from the back of their Crusader and points it at the soldiers]
- Soldier #1: Eh, what that aboot?
- Trevor: Fuck's sakes!
- Soldier #1: Oh, Jesus!
- Trevor: It's a faint fucking accent!
- Soldier #1: Get out of here!
- Trevor: You can hardly tell!
- Soldier #1: Come on, come on! Insurgent! Insurgent! We have contact! We have contact!
- [Trevor then begins raging and rampaging against all oncoming soldiers]
- [Floyd is standing outside Debra's condo as Trevor approaches him]
- Floyd: I miss ya already.
- Floyd: [Notices Trevor behind him] What the F word are you doing here?
- Trevor: That's a funny way to greet your cousin.
- Floyd: You ain't my G-damn cousin, Trevor.
- Trevor: I thought we was family.
- Floyd: Please just go and ruin somebody else's home furnishings!
- Debra: Who the F is that, Floyd?
- Floyd: No one, my sweet!
- Trevor: Hey, by any chance did you catch crabs at that conference? [Shoves Floyd out the way and kicks in the door.]
- Debra: Ah! Floyd!
- Trevor: I heard that those conferences are regular little fuck fests! Huh? Can I come in, huh?
- Debra: I'd like to leave, right now!
- Trevor: Oh yeah... Some serious corporate gangbanging going on, right? Yeah with every executive and director of communications from here to Bangalore, taking it left, right, and center! In the name of team training, right? I mean that's what Floyd told me yesterday as he was staring at my, err... my penis.
- Debra: I want you to leave! Now!
- Trevor: Look, this is all I've got, right? I had a tough upbringing. My daddy was not nice to me! Okay? Now, look, Debra, I love you, and I love you too, Floyd. Why can't we all just be together, huh!? You can have Mondays through Thursdays, you can have the weekends, alright? I know that's not normal but in this crazy, crazy world is normal so good, huh? Look Debra, Floyd! Will you marry me?
- Debra: GET OUT OF MY CONDO! And you go too, Floyd. I told you, I've got a career! I don't need this... this... this... CRAP!
- Trevor: Yes!
- Floyd: There. You made me swear. You're crap, Floyd! Crap! You're not a man at all. Bob's right about you.
- Trevor: Whoa. Who's Bob?
- Debra: I want both of you to go, now! You and your weird friend.
- Trevor: Whoa, hey! My name is Trevor, sweetheart.
- Debra: I... could give a fuck what your fucking name is! I'm not afraid to use this. [Pulls out a handgun] I'm not. Bob taught me.
- Floyd: [Grabs knife] Fuck Bob!
- Trevor: You people are not very fucking nice!
- [Trevor emerges from Debra's condo, completely covered in blood]
- Trevor: Hoohoohoo,Alright, We're gonna do this, Huh? Haha, Show me the money!
- Michael: Slow and steady, T. Slow and steady.
- Amanda: You are a lonely, pathetic psychopath.
- Cinema announcement: Remember to turn off your cell phones, and please don't masturbate.