They damaged my stuff. They smash up my home. Damage my soul. Look at this... This, this, this, this statue here of Impotent Rage. This fucking meant more to me than Johnny K meant to anyone! And they smashed it! Those pathetic, midlife crisis, hog-riding, shaven-headed, fruity leather-chap-wearing fucking assholes!

Michael: Alright... the fuck is this bullshit? We handled your little immigration problem or whatever the fuck it was. We're straight.
Steve Haines: Oh absolutely... yeah, yeah. You killed people, you tortured people, committed a litany of other crimes... Oh we're so straight you and me, we're arrows.

Trevor: I asked for a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. Well, he kinda got a little angry. So, I admit, I kinda got a little angry too.
Michael: Did you kill him?
Trevor: What kinda fucking animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him!

Michael sighs with relief

Trevor: But I did kidnap his wife.

Jimmy: Hey, let's bounce.
Michael: Bounce? We're bouncing now? Is that what we're doing? Jesus fucking Christ.

Ortega: What the fuck, Trevor?
Trevor: This is the fuck, my soggy friend! You are out of business. The Lost MC are out of business. The guns and crank in this area go through Trevor Philips Enterprise, or they ain't going!