v.1
Uptown got its hustlers, the Bowery'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 an' dumb as a man can come
But he's stronger than a country hoss
An' when the bad folks all get together at night
Y'know they all call Big Jim "Boss"... just because
Chorus:
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 ol' Lone Ranger
An you don't mess around with Jim

v.2
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 is Willie McCoy"
"But downhome they call me Slim"
"Well I'm a lookin' for the King of Forty-second street"
"Drivin' a drop-top Cadillac"
"Y'know he took all my money and it may sound funny"
"But I come to get my money back", everybody say Jack

Rpt. Ch.
v.3
Well a hush fell over the pool room
As Jimmy come boppin' in off the street
An' when the cuttin' was done the only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Well he was cut in 'bout a hundred places
An' he was shot in a couple more
An you better believe I sung a different kind of story
When Big Jim hit the floor... woh-oh

Rpt. Ch.
Ol' Big Jim got his back, found out where it's at
It ain't hustlin' people strange to you
Even if you do got a 2-piece, custom-made pool cue