Uptown got it's hustlers The bowery got it's bums 42nd Street got Big Jim Walker He's a pool-shooting son of a gun Yeah, 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 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 Well outta south Alabama came a country boy He say I'm looking for a man named Jim I am a pool-shooting boy My name Willie McCoy But down home they call me Slim Yeah I'm looking for the king of 42nd Street He driving 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 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 Well a hush fell over the pool room Jimmy come bopping 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 Yeah he were cut in bout a hundred places And he were shot in a couple more And you better believe They sung a different kind of story When big Jim hit the floor,  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 Yeah, big Jim got his hat Find out where it's at And it's not hustling people strange to you Even if you do got a two-piece custom-made pool cue 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