Steven Ogg: Trevor Philips

Grand Theft Auto V

Trevor Philips

Michael De Santa: You... are a hipster!
Trevor Philips: What?
Michael De Santa: You're a hipster.
Trevor Philips: I hate hipsters.
Michael De Santa: Classic hipster denial.
Trevor Philips: I abhor hipsters. I eat them for fun!
Michael De Santa: Hipsters love saying they hate hipsters.
Trevor Philips: Well, I really fucking do!
Michael De Santa: Self hatred. Common hipster affliction.
Trevor Philips: Only because I'm living out here away from the Bean Machines, and the bankers?
Michael De Santa: 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 Philips: 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. But I'm very, very angry, and I want this conversation to stop right away.
Michael De Santa: Hipster.
Trevor Philips: Fuck you! Fuck you, Michael! Say it again!
Michael De Santa: I've made my point. I'm not a sadist.

Trevor Philips: You can jerk me off if I get bored. I'm kidding! You can suck me off.

Elwood O'Neil: [over phone] Trevor Philips.
Trevor Philips: Elwood O'Neil, fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, Fuck you!
Elwood O'Neil: Trevor, it's business.
Trevor Philips: That wide-eyed idiot was mine!
Elwood O'Neil: It's business, fella! You wanna discuss it, we're at the farm! Ernie, Earl, Walton, Wynn, Dale, Doyle, Daryl, Dan - all of us!
Trevor Philips: Start writing those names on tombstones, 'cause I'm on the way to your lab, and we're going to see how much of a family meth business you got when I'm done!
[hangs up and growls]
Trevor Philips: All! Of! You! Are! Going! To! Die!

Trevor Philips: Is that sarcasm?
Michael De Santa: Oh, you're fucking A-right it's sarcasm! You fuck! 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, our little posse, are flat fucking broke, but hey, let's go out and spend two million dollars on a tandem rotor fucking chopper, so I can go steal nerve gas from fucking terrorists! Forgive me, you ignorant fuck, but sarcasm is all I've fucking got! Sarcasm, and a room full of you cunts!

Michael De Santa: Trevor! Answer the fucking question!
Trevor Philips: I asked for a fair day's pay after a fair day's work. Then he kinda got a little angry so, I admit, I kinda got a little angry.
Michael De Santa: Did you kill him?
Trevor Philips: What kind of fuckin' animal do you take me for? No, I didn't kill him.
Michael De Santa: Oh fuck.
Trevor Philips: But I did kidnap his wife!
Michael De Santa: Oh no! Oh shit! The fuck did you do?
Trevor Philips: [In baby voice] Oh I just told you what I just did.

Wade Herbert: There's two Michael Townleys living in LS. One is 83 and the other is in kindergarten. I asked the teacher to put him on the phone just to be safe. She threatened to call the cops. I ain't no molester, Trevor.
Trevor Philips: Shut up before I molest you, alright.

Trevor Philips: I'll swing by and sign the contracts, alright? Just ignore the bodies!

Wade Herbert: Floyd, it's me. Wade.
Floyd Herbert: Who?
Wade Herbert: Me, Wade. Your cousin.
Floyd Herbert: Who?
Trevor Philips: [kicks open the door, knocking Floyd down] Your cousin! Fuck. He's come to visit you, you rude fuck. Now get up off the floor and fix me a fucking drink.

Wade Herbert: I looked through the phone directory, and I did find a Michael De Santa. About the right age, married with two kids.
Trevor Philips: What's his wife's name?
Wade Herbert: Amanda.
Trevor Philips: Amanda? You're a genius, you moron. Come on, come here.
[offers his hand to help Wade up, only to punch him down again]
Trevor Philips: Don't you ever not tell me things I wanna know!

Michael De Santa: You know, Devin, the way I see it, and hey, I'm no intelligent businessman like you. But the way I see it, there's two great evils that bedevil American capitalism of the kind you practice: Number one is outsourcing. You paid a private company to do your dirty work, and then you under paid that company because you thought you were big enough and bad enough that you didn't have to play by the rules. Oh, number two: off-shoring your profits.
Trevor Philips: Off-shore?
Michael De Santa: Oh, it's horrible. You wouldn't want to be sent off-shore just to save a little money, would you, T?
Trevor Philips: Oh, no, I wouldn't.
Michael De Santa: Franklin?
Franklin: Oh, nah. I ain't goin' nowhere.
Michael De Santa: But we know your opinions on the matter, Devin. Keep your problems the fuck out of America, huh?
Trevor Philips: In this instance, when he puts it like that, it makes sense.
Michael De Santa: Of course it does. Hey, Devin, goodbye, my old friend. Thanks for all the advice.
Franklin: Buh-bye.

Trevor Philips: [intentionally running into somebody] Oh, by the way, that's entirely your fault.

Trevor Philips: [looking out over Los Santos] 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!

Trevor Philips: [showing Floyd his dick] Mine ain't nothin' special, but this boy gets the job done.

Trevor Philips: You're like every other asshole. You made a bit of money, and you became a turd.
Michael De Santa: I've got news for you, I was always a turd.
Trevor Philips: No! You weren't, man, you were something, but now, man, yeah, you're like this place, you're shell.
Michael De Santa: Go fuck yourself. Are you some kind of pure, morally justifiable asshole? What, because you're... You're totally psychotic, somehow it's okay?
Trevor Philips: I'm honest, alright? You're the hypocrite.
Michael De Santa: Oh, yeah, you're a fucking hero. So far above it all.
Trevor Philips: Oh, yeah? Well I'm not above ripping open your fucking chest to see what's replaced your heart!
Michael De Santa: Rip it open, see what's there, baby, 'cause I'm ready!

Ortega: What the fuck, Trevor?
Trevor Philips: 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!