Bound by the Streets, where the poor Class prevails,
With Cold, hardened hearts, some are born by jail
With slicked-back hair and a comb in our hands,
We Greasers survive in a rough, Tough land
Through thick and thin, Hoods are roots in the ground,
A bond like steel, unshaken and unbound
No matter the odds, we won’t face defeat
Born by...
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