I'm cool like this:
I read fashion magazines like they're warning labels telling me
what not to do.
When I was a kid, Arthur Fonzarelli seemed a garden-variety dork.
I got my own speed limit.
I come when I want to.
I maintain like an ice cube in the remote part of the freezer.
Cooler than a polar bears toenails.
Cooler than the other side of the pillow.
Cool like me.
Know this while understanding that I am in essence a humble guy.
I'm the kinda man who's so cool that my neighbor bursts into
hysterical tears whenever I ring her doorbell after dark. She is a new
immigrant who has chosen to live with her two roommates in our Los
Angeles neighborhood so that, I'm told, she can "learn about all
American cultures." But her real experience is limited to the space
between her Honda and her front gate; thus, much of what she has to go
on is the vibe of the surroundings and the images coming from the
television set that gives her living room a bright nighttime glow. As
such, I'm a cop-show menace and a general commercial demi-god--one of
the rough boys from our 'hood and the living, breathing embodiment of
hip hop country.