West Side Story

Jets!

Woman: Hey, hey!

Come on.

Ha!

Jets: Yeah! Come on, come on!

Beat it.

Jets member: Oh, yeah!

Boy: Hey!

Hey, you! Come on!

Jets!

Jets member: Come on, baby John!

Officer: Alright now, all you separate!

Separate! Separate!

You're driving me to my grave, ya pack of jackals.

Watch yourself, sergeant krupke,

you're gonna inflame your asthma,

shouting like that.

Why don't you leave the Puerto Ricans alone, riff?

Christ almighty. And you lot,

you're in New York now.

You got a problem, you call the cops.

Youse can't play at being cops yourselves.

Pero we call the cops, you show up and arrest us!

You're never around when these hijueputas

mess up our stores and our streets.

See, I get confused when you say "our streets,"

seeing how these streets are ours by right

- of being born here, amigo. - The jets!

How many times do I gotta tell you, Bernardo?

I don't speak spic.

Krupke: Hey, hey!

That's enough! That's enough!

Come on! Break it up!

Jesus wept, baby John.

Who did that to your ear?

Which one of them nailed you?

Who cracked your head open, hombre?

In English.

Same guy who nailed your ear, maybe?

Maybe. I don't remember.

I realise if any of you helps me out,

you might spoil your chance to murder each other

over control of this earthly paradise.

The jets control it and you know it.

Uh-huh, yeah,

but, golly gee, Balkan, not according

to the New York City committee for slum clearance,

which has decided to pull this whole hell mouth

down to the bedrock,

and you're in the way.

Aah!

Nice reflexes, muchacho.

So, any day now,

all of you are gonna be evicted.

You'll have to "vamoose," as we say in Spanish.

We're not relocating.

We have rights.

Rights, huh? Where are they?

You back down, Bernardo. Don't be stupid.

Some night, muchacho,

maybe you'll get to see me fight.

'Course, you'll have to leave your gun at home, lieutenant.

Evict yourself off my crime scene, Bernardo.

Vamos.

Jets member: Chick, chick, chick.

Jets member: Chickie, chickie, chickie.

A boxer and a singer.

Jets member 3: Get a load of this guy.

You want me to book the whole bunch of you?

Keep up the serenade and see what...

[Viva Puerto Rico iibre!

I am ordering you clowns to disperse!

Now!

We're outnumbered, boys.

Thousands more are on their way,

and once they're here,

they pop out kids like crazy. Am I right?

Tell me which one of them nailed baby John's ear

and I'll put him out of circulation.

Work with me, fellas.

Or they're gonna drive you off your turf.

You said it was the slum clearance committee

that was driving us off,

now it's the prs.

You gotta get your story straight, lieutenant schrank.

We're very impressionable.

Most of the white guys who grew up in this slum

climbed their way out of it.

Irish, Italian, Jews.

Nowadays, their descendants live in nice houses

and drive nice cars

and date nice girls you'd want to marry.

Your dads or your granddads stayed put,

drinking and knocking up some local piece

who gave birth to you.

The last of the can't-make-it caucasians.

What's a gang without its terrain, its turf?

You're a month or two away from finding out,

one step ahead of the wrecking ball.

And in this uncertain world,

the only thing you can count on is me.

I'm here to keep the civil peace

until the last building falls.

And if you boys make trouble

on my turf, riff, hand to heart,

you're headed to an upstate prison cell

for a very long time.

By the time you get out,

this will be a shiny new neighbourhood of rich people

in beautiful apartments

with puerto rican doormen to chase trash like you away.

Wait!

I got a question for you, lieutenant.

How tall did you used to be before you,

you know, "schrank"?

Come on, sergeant, ride with me.

Long as I know you, riff,

you ain't had the sense, god gave a pigeon.

Riff: Come here, let's see what he done.

Come on.

Well, that's gonna scar, buddy boy.

- You think so? - Frankenstein time.

They can't make us up and leave.

We're here, ain't we?

American citizens, which them spics ain't!

Them they can chase off, not us.

Puerto Ricans are Americans,

- you ignoramus. - Ah, go eat a green banana!

Puerto Rico's like a state, ain't it? So, deez is right...

Baby John: No, it's something else.

Jets member: There are only 48 states,

- ya dead battery. - What do you know?

Whatever they are,

citizens or who gives a fart, what we know is...

Jets member 2: They ain't us.

So, spill it, krazy Kat, what are you thinking?

I'm thinking it's past time for a rumble.

For a all-in, all-out, once-and-for-all,

winner-takes-all, high-noon-shootout-

at-the-o.k. Corral rumble!

Balkan: Wild blue yonder! About time!

We do 'em like we done the Egyptian kings.

- And the emeralds. - And the bishops.

Alright, so Tony and me will sit down with...

- Jets member: Tony? - Yeah, Tony.

Jets member 2: What's this got to do with him?

He ain't stood with us once since he got out.

He's on parole. He's gotta be careful, is all.

He cannot be running around...

Tony's done with the jets, riff.

He ain't done with the jets. Like that's even a thing!

You cannot be done with this family.

Maybe it wasn't a thing before, but now, riff?

The lieutenant's right.

What are the jets if we got no territory?

- Jets member: That's right! - All: Yeah.

Schrank doesn't know his ass from his elbow.

Look,

Tony and me started the jets

cause none of us would even be here

if it wasn't for all of us.

And all you know it.

When you're a jet you're a jet all the way

from your first cigarette to your last dyin' day

when you're a jet if the spit hits the fan

you got brothers around you're a family man

you're never alone

you're never disconnected

you're home with your own

when company's expected

you're well-protected

then you are set with a capital j

which you'll never forget till they cart you away

when you're a jet.

You stay a

jet -

So, meet Tony and me at the dog days dance

at the gym tonight.

We can't rumble at the gym, it'll be lousy with cops!

And maybe we've had enough trouble

with the Puerto Ricans for one day?

Relax. It's a social mixer.

So we'll mix until the time's right

to fix the rumble for tomorrow night.

Be there 10:00 pm, punctual-like,

dressed to kill, walking tall!

We always walk tall! We're jets!

The greatest.

When you're a jet you're the top cat in town

you're the gold-medal kid with the heavyweight crown

when you're a jet

you're the swingin'est thing little boy, you're a man

jets: Little man you're a king

riff: The jets are in gear

our cylinders are clickin'

the sharks'll steer clear

jets: Cause every puerto rican's a lousy chicken

here come the jets like a bat out of hell

someone gets in our way someone don't feel so well

here come the jets little world, step aside