You Don't Mess Around With Jim

Jim Croce

Uptown got its hustlers. The bowery got its bums
42nd street got Big Jim Walker he’s 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 the old Lone Ranger
   And you don’t mess around with Jim (or Slim)

Ba-doo-doo-boo-da dee-dee-dee-dee-dee

Well outa South Alabama come a country boy, he said I’m lookin’ for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin’ boy, by name of Willie McCoy but down home they call me “Slim”
Yeah, 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…”    Repeat Chorus (w/Jim)

Ba-doo-doo-boo-da dee-dee-dee-dee-dee

Well a hush fell over the pool room, Jimmy come a-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
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 floor
Uhuhuhhuh… now they say…    Repeat Chorus (w/Slim)

mm mm mm mmmm mm mm mm mm

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    Repeat Chorus (w/Slim)

mm mm mm mmmm mm mm mm mm; mm mm mm mmmm