Uptown got its hustlers
The Bowery got its bums
42nd Street got Big Jim Walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gunYeah, 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 becauseAnd 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 JimWell outta south Alabama come a country boy
He say: I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy
My name's Willie McCoy
But down home they call me SlimYeah, 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 backAnd everybody say: Jack, 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 JimWell 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, oohAnd he was cut in about a hundred places
And he was shot in a couple more
And you better believe
They sung different kind of story
When big Jim hit the floorNow 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 SlimYeah, big Jim got his hat
Find out where it's at
And it's not hustlin' people strange to you
Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cueYeah, 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 Slim
Composição: Jim Croce.
