It was crazy as hell. He must've been tweaking. I know I am. You got a washing machine I could take apart?

Michael: It's a foolish man who builds his house in sand, baby.
Franklin: I don't think my boy Matthew was thinking trucks when he wrote that shit.

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!

So Michael, this is where dead men come back to life. It's been nearly ten years. But you'll keep for another day or so huh, old friend? You motherfucking fuck! I grieved for you! You weren't even fucking dead. You were my best friend. Well guess who's coming to shit on your doorstep, you fuck!

GTA, pretty much the same as the last game.