You Dont Mess Around With Jim Lyrics

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You Dont Mess Around With Jim Lyrics

Artist Jim Croce

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 am 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 am 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

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