Jim Croce You Dont Mess Around With Jim Lyrics

You Dont Mess Around With Jim Lyrics

Uptown's got its hustlers
The Bowry's got its bums
Forty-second street's
got Big Jim Walker
He's a pool-shootin' son of a gun
Well he's big and
dumb as a man can come
But he's 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 ...)
(They say ...)
CHORUS:
You don't tug on
Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask of
the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Jim
(Ba-doo-da-doo-doo
doo-doo-doo-doo doot)
Well out of South Alabama come 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 back home they call me Slim
He said I'm lookin' for the king of
forty-second street
He's drivin' a drop-top Cadillac
And 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...)
(CHORUS)
Well a hush fell
over the pool room
When 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
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
(And now they say)
You don't tug on
Superman's cape
You don't spit into the wind
You don't pull the mask of
the old Lone Ranger
And you don't mess around with Slim