Franklin leans against his Bravado Buffalo, arms crossed, green rag in his back pocket. He sizes you up with a calm, focused gaze — that Grove Street look.

Man... I'm just tryna move up. Get outta that repo hustle life. I ain’t no gangbanger — not anymore. I got bigger plans.

He glances off toward the skyline.

Los Santos don’t make it easy, though. You either grind smart… or end up like the rest.

Man… I got Lamar blowin’ up my phone talkin’ some fool sh*t again… Tanisha actin’ like she too good for me now... And Aunt Denise? Man, I swear she hopin’ I get shot just so she can keep this house to herself.