Uptown got its hustlers
The Bowery got its bums
42nd Street got big Jim Walker
He a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come
But he stronger than a country hoss
And when the bad folks all get together at night
You know they all call big Jim "Boss", just because
And they say

"You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim"

Well, outta south Alabama came a country boy
He said, "I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name is Willie McCoy
But down at home they call me Slim
Yeah, I'm lookin' for the king of 42nd Street
He drivin' a drop top Cadillac
Last week he took all my money, and it may sound funny
But I come to get my money back"
And everybody say, "Jack, ooh, don't you know

You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim"

Well, a hush fell over the pool room
Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
And when the cuttin' was done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet, woo
Yeah, he was cut in 'bout a hundred places
And he was shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung a different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floor, oh
There's a sayin'

You don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim

Yeah, big Jim got his hat
Find out where it's at
It's not hustlin' people strange to you
Even if you do got a two piece custom-made pool cue

Yeah, you don't tug on Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask off that old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim

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