Roosevelt (Rosey) Littlejohn says he has seen it all -- youths in gold chains and Fila tennis shoes open the trunks of expensive cars and offer guns for sale, then strut into a club with a cellular phone in hand, a beeper on the hip, and a request for 30 shots of Courvoisier to give to friends.

Littlejohn, a corrections officer, is a bouncer and founder of Ultimate Force, a team of bouncers who try to keep peace at no-liquor go-go dances and nightclubs where the popular music is featured.

The members of Ultimate Force had earned the respect of most teen-agers who frequent the go-gos, said Littlejohn. But in recent months a new breed of hustlers, young drug dealers with plenty of money and weapons, is making the job harder for him and his crew of hefty guards.

"The police don't seem to realize these guys in D.C. doing these shootings are heavily armed, carrying automatic weapons. Most of them do drugs," said Littlejohn, who has been a bouncer since 1979.

In the latest incident involving violence at a go-go hall, three of Littlejohn's bouncers were shot early Sunday after they expelled three men from Cheriy's at 21 Atlantic St. SW.

One of the members of Ultimate Force, Arthur Kay, 31, of Landover, was released from Greater Southeast Community Hospital yesterday after undergoing surgery on Monday for a gunshot wound in the left hand.

Vonald Bowden, 26, of Oxon Hill, remained in the hospital in satisfactory condition with a gunshot wound in the left leg.

Wallace Lee, 23, of Silver Spring was in stable condition in the intensive care unit with a jaw wound.

Police are still searching for the suspects, whose faces were well known at the local dances.

"We've all been shot at," said Littlejohn, who grew up in Hyattsville and now lives in Riverdale. He thinks this recent incident was triggered because the guys who were thrown out "felt disrespected."

"They are constantly fighting for respect," he said.

But Littlejohn and Bowden emphasize that most of the youths they meet at the go-gos are teen-agers who just come to dance and enjoy the music.

"I'm opposed to people believing go-gos are responsible for all the wrongdoings," Bowden said from his hospital bed.

Neither Littlejohn nor Bowden, however, believes such legislation is the answer.

"These things happen at Friday night parties, at skating rinks, anywhere," Bowden said.

Littlejohn is no stranger to violence. He said that he and Kay were also at the Masonic Temple on U Street NW in April when 11 men were wounded by a gunman who fired into a crowd leaving the dance.

A few days later one of Littlejohn's first partners in the business, Albert Butler, was stabbed to death while he worked as a security guard at a Northeast drugstore. Butler, 29, was a popular figure who also had worked as a bouncer at the go-gos, Littlejohn said.

Ultimate Force and a couple of similar groups were established as local go-go bands became increasingly popular and needed security at large concerts here and around the country. The security groups have ridden the coattails of go-go, a District-born hybrid of funk, soul and rap.

Littlejohn said his group also has provided security at Prince concerts, traveled with James Brown and with the local go-go band Trouble Funk on a tour of the French Riviera.

They have also accompanied groups to West Coast cities, Canada, London and Paris, and have worked as bodyguards for individuals, he said.

"To accompany a group of wealthy investors or store owners, say to Atlantic City, you might get $300 a day plus expenses to act as bodyguards," said Littlejohn, who stands 6 feet 2 inches and weighs 300 pounds.

But because of the inconsistency of the work, most of the 12 to 15 bouncers he employs also hold full-time jobs.Go-gos pay about $60 to $150 per night, per person, he said.

"It's worse than when I was growing up around here," Littlejohn said of the go-gos.

"The young kids have gotten a taste of not really big money, but drug money," Littlejohn said.

"They're flashy and they come to the go-go to show off," said Bowden. "{The go-gos} are where the friends they grew up with hang out. Anywhere else they would have to dress up, but they want to come in sweatsuits . . . . "

"You even see big brothers bringing little brothers, who are 8 and 9 years old, to these dances," said Littlejohn. "The little brother is wearing gold chains, Fila tennis shoes and beepers. That's why we support schools that are talking about making children wear uniforms to school." Despite the problems, Littlejohn still likes his business. "As time goes on, you see the good you do. You stop a few rapes, maybe break up some fights, and you say, 'Damn, what would happen if I wasn't here?' " he said.