You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Jim Croce
Uptown got it's hustlers
Bowery got it's bums
42nd Street got Big Jim Walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Yea, 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 ...

CHORUS:

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

Well outa south Alabama came a country boy
Hey say I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy
My name Willie McCoy
But down home they call me Slim
Yea 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 ... don't you know that

(Repeat Chorus)

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

(Repeat Chorus [New last line] And you don't mess around with Slim)

[Spoken] Yea, big Jim got his hat
Find out where it's at
And it's not hustling people strange to you
Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue ... yea

(Repeat Chorus)

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