Pimp, playa, hustler & Ghetto Prophet. The code be Jo-Jo Bellbottoms & I be nothin' but pure polyester leisure-suit chocolate love. Whenever I enter a room, a funksplosion happen. The Mothership land and out pop some George Clinton & the entire Parliment Funkadelic 'cause deese Freaks is here to party. I catch ends runnin 3 card monty &...well, ya, know. I know you seen Cadilacs, dis ain't yo' daddy's Caddy, na'mean?Ok, I can't keep it up. Jo-jo is my alter-ego, and he's really cool. I'm somewhat moderately nifty, too. But let's be real: I'm no Jo-Jo Bellbottoms. I mean, who is? Except for Jo-Jo. Because he is. Himself. I swear. I'm going to let him finish this here entry before I put you nice people to sleep.So lisen, lissen. Ladies, I wrote dis here song fo y'all. I'ma sing & romanticize - make a ladies go crazy wit my polyester style. Look, I'ma break it down like this: "Uh Ahhh, the love that I got is the love that you cannot find, because it's the love that you done stole and put away in a mason jar that yo grandma use to can peaches when they in season, and hid away on a shelf in yo besement, but its the love you be missin ohhhh wheeeeeeeen ya start ta loook...ta Look!"
