Bad, Bad Leroy Brown-Jim Croce
Woah!
Bad, Bad Leroy Brown
Well the south side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town
And if you go down there
You better just beware
Of a man name of Leroy Brown
Now Leroy more than trouble
You see he stand ‘bout six foot four
All those downtown ladies call him "Treetop Lover"
All the men just call him "Sir"
And he's bad, bad Leroy Brown
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
Now Leroy he a gambler
And he like his fancy clothes
And he like to wave his diamond rings
Under everybody's nose
He got a custom Continental
He got an Eldorado too
He got a 32 gun in his pocket full a fun
He got a razor in his shoe
And he's bad, bad Leroy Brown
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
Well Friday 'bout a week ago
Leroy shootin' dice
And at the edge of the bar
Sat a girl named Doris
And oh that girl looked nice
Well he cast his eyes upon her
And the trouble soon began
And Leroy Brown had learned a lesson
'Bout a-messin' with the wife of a jealous man
And he's bad, bad Leroy Brown
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than a-old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
Well the two men took to fighting
And when they pulled them from the floor
Leroy looked like a jigsaw puzzle
With a couple of pieces gone
And it's bad, bad Leroy Brown
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
And he's bad, bad Leroy Brown
The baddest man in the whole damn town
Badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog
Yeah he was badder than old King Kong
And meaner than a junkyard dog.
and its brother song
You Don't Mess Around With Jim
Uptown got it's hustlers
The bowery got it's bums
42nd street got big jim walker
He's a pool-shootin' 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 lookin' for a man named Jim
I am a pool-shootin' boy
My name 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
And 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 boppin' in off the street
And when the cuttin' were done
The only part that wasn't bloody
Was the soles of the big man's feet
Yeah he were cut in 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 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 the old lone ranger
And you don't mess around with slim