Steve Haines: Those bastards love to sell drugs.
Trevor: Who doesn't?

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!

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!

Simeon: You tell me exactly what you want, and I will very carefully explain to you why it cannot be.
Franklin: What?

Michael: Come back, we'll order pizza.
Trevor: Fuck you! Fuck your pizza. Fuck everything it stands for!