Leaderboard

Gustavo's Rise Name: Gustavo Lopiz Date of Birth: 20/05/1996 Place of Birth: Mexico City, Mexico Current Residence: Los Santos, San Andreas Background & Story Gustavo Lopiz was born and raised in Mexico City in a working-class neighborhood. His father worked as a mechanic in a small garage, and from a young age, Gustavo was surrounded by the smell of oil, engines, and late nights fixing cars. By the time he was 16, he could take apart and rebuild an engine block on his own. Like many, Gustavo dreamed of more than what his home city could offer. In 2018, he made the move to Los Santos, chasing the promise of money and a better lifestyle. He started with small mechanic jobs in back-alley garages, eventually becoming known in the underground scene for his hands-on skill and love for speed. Car Scene & Racing Life In 2024, Gustavo joined a racing crew known as SpeedHunters. The crew quickly became his second family—late-night street races, tuning sessions, and garage meet-ups. They lived for adrenaline and the roar of engines. But as the months passed, members of SpeedHunters started drifting apart—some left the city, others got caught by the cops, and the crew slowly dissolved. Gustavo found himself once again alone, searching for that same sense of brotherhood and passion. Now, in Los Santos, he’s on the lookout for new friends and fellow enthusiasts—people who share his love for cars, tuning, and racing. Whether it’s in the garage with a wrench in hand or on the highway at 200 km/h, Gustavo lives for the car culture.

Field Training Program II; Daily Observation Reports / East LS Picking Up a Call; "Suspect is Armed & Dangerous" / A Pursuit Turned Deadly A Pursuit Turned Deadly II

Fire! Keep it up man! Keep an eye on it!!

Lebrons Bailout Boyz

Detective in custody? // Internal Affairs on the line.

my fave mobsters.

Pushin' never stops here // Juras

G-Money: A Pimps Poetry Chapter 1: The Rise of G-Money Hol' up, fam. Back in the day, on April 10th, '93, Goldie Mack blessed San Fierro Hospital with his presence. His pops, Donell, was a brotha who'd flipped scripts, from street hustlin' to throwin' down with the Black Panthers. And his mama, Marie, held it down as a nurse at the same crib where Goldie popped out. Fast forward to '98, when Goldie hit up San Fierro Elementary. But life threw a curveball when his folks couldn't hang in the Bay anymore. Gentrification was trippin', so they had to bounce to Los Santos, Overhill Drive in Glen Park. That hood was lit, back in the day, not gonna lie. Pimps, hos, stick-up kids, dopeboys, and gangs ran the show. By 2006, Goldie, then 13, was cold kickin' it with the Overhill Rollin 60s, the Bacc Hood 60s, a shady click within the Rollin 60s Neighborhood Crips. Then came 2007, when Goldie hit Crenshaw High, he was already makin' a name for himself with Overhill 60s. Breakin' into cribs, jackin' folks for their loot, throwin' down with rival sets, bustin' caps, and taggin' up walls. Yeah, he was on the come-up, earnin' that nickname G-Money for real. Chapter 2: Homie Drops the Hammer and Hits the Big Time During this time, 2009 to be exact, Goldie, a young buck just 16 summers young, copped his first ride—a clean '58 Tornado. He linked with his crew, flipped that joint into a sick lowrider, and we boom, the Ghetto Roll Models C.C were born. They started slayin' the competition, making bank at them lowrider shows. One fateful day, late 2010, at Crenshaw High, Goldie's vibe switched when he met Sunny Monroe, a fly mixed chick with moves like Shakira. They tight quick, and before you know it, they was like Bonnie and Clyde. Flash forward to Graduation Day, 2011. Goldie's chillin' at his party, set up by the one and only Sunny Monroe. Outta nowhere, these twin sisters, Brandisha and Janis Reeves, step to him lookin' fly. Sunny had the whole thing planned. They talked that game, got Goldie all hot and bothered, and ended up having a 3 Way with him. But here's the kicker: after the session, they hit Goldie up like, 'Ay, we wanna turn you into a player.' They had this crew called the B&J Network, hookin' up with the bigwigs in Los Santos. Goldie was like, 'Really tho?' and by the end of the day, they'd brought in over $8K. Money talks, and Goldie couldn't resist the hustle. He ditched his lowrider homies and his boy Deshawn Jenkins, and he was out here on the block, running a crew of his own. Chapter 3: The West Coast Hustler During the Spring of 2012, when Goldie hit 19, he was a young hustler on the grind. He flipped that prostitution dough into a crib in Marina, keepin' it lowkey and avoidin' the drama in South Central. Focused on his paper, he started building an empire. That led him to link up with some heavy hitters. One crew, the Valentine Enterprise, was tight. They was run by Natasha and Kimberly Valentine, and their G, Carry Saunders. They took a shine to Goldie and hooked him up with a sweet penthouse in the Valentine Hotel on Rodeo Drive. But it wasn't all about livin' large. They wanted Goldie to recruit more girls for their brothel hidden inside the hotel, and have him run it as co-manager. Goldie was all about that, and the money started flowin' like crazy. He was rubbin' elbows with the rich and famous out in West L.S. By the time he turned 20, Goldie Loc was killin' it. He was a co-manager at the 'Pretty Pony' strip club in Verona Beach and 'Gangsters Paradise' in Temple, a spot that had everything from a brothel to a nightclub. Goldie was a baller, a hustler, and the talk of the town. Chapter 4: From the Streets to the Music Biz and Beyond Goldie was a hustler with big dreams. Rhymin' since he was a teen, he dropped hot tracks underground as 'G-Money.' But he wasn't just spittin' bars—he was connectin' with foos from every hood, Crips, Bloods, and even Eses. They were his soldiers, his homies on the grind. Goldie's right-hand man, Deshawn Jenkins, was a pimp and a player. Together, they ruled their empire. But when Deshawn took his own life in 2013, Goldie took the reigns solo. Goldie's game was gettin' bigger. He linked up with a fat cat from the Russian Mafia, met him at some lit party at the Pretty Pony. They plotted to open up a house of ill repute, disguised as a massage parlor and spa in the Commerce District. It was gonna be a dope front for their shady business. Final Chapter: Justice's Vendetta I'm about to drop some realness on y'all. Check it, it was all going down for Goldie. His joints and the grimey money he was slingin' were getting hit by this dirty cop named Harry Dickerson. This fool was known for the nasty, violating some folks he collared, especially the ladies of the night. They called him 'Officer Dick Em Down' for a reason. Anyways, Harry raped and killed one of Goldie's women, and he was cooking up some bogus evidence to pin it on him. That's when Goldie hit the bricks and rolled into Montgomery, Red County. He hooked up with a local G named Franklin Clay, who threw some dough at the pigs to ease the heat. But their ride came to a screeching halt when Franklin got popped by the fuzz in San Fierro during a wild car chase with Goldie. Franklin jumped out with his heat, blazin' away at the SFPD. The fools blasted him quick, and they were about to smoke Goldie too. But he threw up his hands and got busted for two cold-blooded murders, plus he got hit with pimping, kidnapping, and violating some women. They gave him the death penalty, but Goldie was like, 'Nah, I ain't guilty.' So they knocked him down to 25 to Life. That same year, a detective was on Goldie's case and caught up with Officer Dickerson, the lowlife. Harry got shipped to Death Row, and guess what? Goldie got sprung from the joint in 2024. He wasted no time getting his hustle back up and running.

Big love big appreciation much support when it comes to this for real! A boss player right here for real !

Hello, 200 pages, please. Yellow Hibiscus~

+1. Getting raided day in, day out because a gun was spotted over a leveled ground of a dark frontyard/backyard during the night time which could not be possible. Really does get tiresome and extinguishes the drive for passive gang roleplay.

G-Money: The Showdown/FUCK LAB RAT RECORDS!

Would you like to be the victim or the killer?! One simple question, answered all of Trey's confusions. Trey's almost losing it over every big and small, he now realises how easy and fast anything can take place. Anytime, anywhere and anybody can be it..

G'Money//Touchdown Score From The Sky!

* G-Money starts rapping as soon as the hook stops. (Verse 1) It's G-Money, on the throne, Leaving a trail of groupies in yo zone. They be struttin on the street, money makin machines, Stackin bills, flippin pills, livin out their dreams. See, these ladies ain't just pretty faces, They be hustlin' hard, fillin' up the spaces. In my pockets, with them green faces, Helpin' me re-up, keepin' up the paces. (The Hoochie Groupie Hook) (Last Verse) They keep the flow steady, supplyin what i need, From drugs to guns, yeah, they plant the seed. Got me sittin on stacks, while they workin' the streets, Addicted to the game, can't nobody compete. So when you see me in my Caddy ride, Know them hoochie groupies be by my side. Makin moves, makin cash, ain't no time to hide, Pimp game strong, we takin' it in stride. (The Hoochie Groupie Hook)

* Starts Rapping at 0:03. (1st Verse) M.O.B. What does it mean? Make Or Break for the Pimp Machine. It's purse first then ass last i used to simp but that's the past. Now I'm bout cash more chill than jazz sportin clothes with class counting money like math watch yo hoe i mite snatch then make a dash then hit the gas clownin suckas in my path. Task on my ass, Aimin for my stash, But can't get it cuz i think fast! So nick nack paddy wack give a mack a hat, I'm Moonwalkin on you Haters like Mike Jack. Smooth Criminal, That's a fact, A Original, Gangsta Mack. A Ghetto Role Model is why they mad, I'm always sober i never lack. (The Hook: 0:48 - 1:11) (2nd Verse) Fuck a Twelve, I'm a Rebel, Make that Money or Break Yourself! Like the Cartel, All for wealth, Cuz being broke is bad for ya health. Always on stealth, Where i dwell, Cuz on my hood it's a livin Hell. Bullet Shells, Another body fell, From New Years Eve to the Jingle Bells. Gunpowder smell, As you inhale, The rhymes i spell of this playa tale. From Motels, To Hotels, Crime does pay cuz mobbin sells. I does it well, Slicker than Gel, Cuz where I'm from it's Ball or Fail. Quiet as Hell Like a Snail, Movin in silence cuz G's don't tell. (The Hook: 1:57 - 2:20) (Last Verse) P.I.G, What does it mean? A Punk In Greed who's Hatin on me. Lookin for Trouble, Like a Puzzle, Finding anyway to knock my hustle. It's a struggle in the Jungle, when everybody tryina bubble. You need muscle for to rumble, like a Tug Of War it's a Ghetto Tussle. Ya better have aim, In this lane, If you can't hang get up out this game. Diamond Rings, Diamond Chains, My game the same inside my brain. Flippin Cocaine and Mary Jane, out here chasing that Fortune and Fame. Mobbin all day against the grain, putting all Haters and Pigs to shame. (The Hook: 3:06 - 3:28) (Stops)

G-Money drops another song called "Don't Fight It". * G Money starts spitting after the hook stops. (Verse 1) Well it's the pimp, the playa, the one and only, They call me G-Money but yo hoes say daddy. Twerkin and grindin, can't hide their feelin, I'm the one they want, they pussy stealin. I whisper in their ear, tell em what they like, Then drop to their knees, their mouths wide. I give em a taste, but I'm always safe, Wearin a rubber, or I'm leaving no trace. I pull out and cum, all over their skin, Or do em in the butt, make em scream and grin. I'ma king of this game, they can't resist, My pimp game strong, they can't dismiss. Don't fight it, girl, y'know you want this life, Rollin with me, no stress, no strife. Money, power, respect, be my ride or die, We'll get rich together, watch the haters cry. (The Hook: Don't You Fight It) (Verse 2) These other pimps hate my success, Try to knock my hustle, but can't progress. I got a crew of killas, doin my biddin, They take em out quick, leave em in a ditch and. These haters be talkin, tryin to fuck my rep, But I just laugh it off, while they hoes in my bed. Makin that money, while they're cryin in jail, My hoes are loyal, they never tell. I'm the pimp with the power, they adore, They can't get enough, they always want more. A master of the game, they can't deny, My pimp seed's potent, it makes em high. I'm the boss, the king, the one in charge, They can't resist this dick, that extra large. With the game, can't be tamed They can't fight it, they foreva changed. (The Hook: Don't You Fight It) (Verse 3) At the end of the day, I'm counting money in my ride, With a Girl on her knees, giving me pride. Bitch haters gone, loved ones by my side, G-Money lives, pimpin worldwide. No kids, no baby mama drama mess, Just living lavish, gotta confess. G-Money, the boss, always at my best, Another day, another dollar, I don't rest. (Stops)

* G-Money drops another single called "Re-Up". * G-Money starts spitting game as soon as the beat drop. (1st Verse) Counting cash, gotta make it last, Pimping hoes, moving fast. Money low, but the game's the same, Gotta hustle hard, gotta play the game. 1-2-3, stacking bills, 4-5-6, climbing hills. Money, guns, fear, respect, In the streets, gotta collect. 10-11-12, on the grind, 13-14, money on my mind. Hoes on the corner, money to be made, Gotta stay sharp, gotta get paid. 15-16, moving weight, 17-18, can't hesitate. Fear in their eyes when they see me comin, Respect on the streets, my name they're drummin. 19-20, counting stacks, 21-22, no turning back. Money talks, and I speak it well, In this game of life, gotta excel. (G-Money Sings) The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Haters won't leave me alone. The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Haters won't leave me alone. (2nd Verse) 23-24, clocking time, 25-26, on the climb. Guns on my hip, ready to protect, Street smarts sharp, no room for neglect. 27-28, never fold, 29-30, streets of gold. Re-up, re-up, gotta stay in check, Money, guns, fear, respect. 31-32, closing the deal, Every move calculated, every move real. In this game of life, gotta stay true, Re-up, re-up, that's what we do. 33-34, dodging heat, 35-36, gotta keep discreet. Eyes on the prize, never losing sight, In the dead of night, we own the fight. (G-Money Sings) The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Haters won't leave me alone. The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Haters won't leave me alone. (Last Verse) 37-38, stacking chips, 39-40, on those long trips. Through the city lights, chasing dreams, In this concrete jungle, nothing's as it seems. 41-42, counting days, 43-44, finding new ways. To stay ahead, to stay alive, In this game of survival, we strive. 45-46, running schemes, 47-48, breaking seams. Through the cracks, we make our way, In the hustle and bustle, where shadows play. 49-50, reaching heights, 51-52, winning fights. Against the odds, against the grain, In this life of risk, we carve our gain. (G-Money Sings) The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Hater's won't leave me alone. The game won't let me chill, Gotta re-up just to pay the bills. So I gotta get my pimp on, Player Hater's won't leave me alone. (Stops)