Uptown got its hustlers
The Bowery got its bums
Forty-Second Street got Big Jim Walker
He a pool-shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, 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
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

(Ba-doo, doo-doo, da-da, ih, ih, dee-dee-dee)

Well, outta south Alabama come a country boy
He said: I'm lookin' for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy, my name's Willie McCoy
But down at home, they call me Slim

Yeah, I'm lookin' for the king of Forty-Second 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, uh, don't you know?

That 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

(Ba-doo, doo-doo, da-da, ih, ih, dee-dee-dee)

Well, a hush fell over the pool room
And Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
And when the cutting were done, the only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet, ooh

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, oh, oh
Now 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 Slim

(Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm)

Yeah, 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 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