CHARLES JONES, 21, who accused 76er Allen Iverson of threatening to shoot him, is not welcome at the quiet, well-tended Cobbs Creek Court apartments in West Philadelphia.

Not after tenants claimed he was prancing in the halls half-naked, wearing only his "poom-poom" pants (revealing high-cut jeans) and upsetting some of the more mature residents.

Not after the building's manager said he behaved as though he was the tenant, demanding a key to the mailbox, even though it wasn't his.

Not after tenants complained he had been keeping them awake, with his guests running up and down the hall "pairing up" and doing "ungodly things."

Not after the mother of Shaun Bowman, 21, ordered the locks to her son's apartment changed and packed up Jones' belongings and left them in storage.

And not after Jones was summarily kicked out of the apartment by Bowman and his mother, Jessie Iverson Bowman, earlier this week.

All of this is likely to come out in court - should the Iverson soap opera make it that far.

These are among the numerous complaints the building's management has received about Jones and his pals from late April through this week, said the building superintendent, as well as its former manager, Pauline Joyner.

Bowman's mother "wants Charles out of there. Shaun even wants Charles out of there," said the superintendent, who asked that his name not be used.

In less than three months of his off-again, on-again residence, Jones managed to turn himself into persona non grata, even before he filed a complaint against Iverson. Neither Jones nor Bowman could not be reached for comment.

"The media is only focusing on Iverson; what about Charles Jones' credibility?" asked Joyner, who rented the $515-per month, one-bedroom apartment to Shaun Bowman on April 1.

Jones "doesn't have a lease; he's unemployed and been unemployed," she said.

"The tenants are saying: 'He's broke. He doesn't have no money. It's about "The Man's" money,' " Joyner said, referring to Iverson. "If it's not about money, what is it about?"

"And he's going to mess up a man's career," she added.

Joyner prides herself on having managed the 79-tenant complex for 20 years, while her brother maintained it for 25 years. The property has since been sold, and their last day managing it was May 24.

"There's been no broken doors, no major crimes here and all around are homeowners," she added. Now, this.

Jones showed up in Bowman's apartment in mid-April. Bowman claimed Jones was his brother, a college student expected to stay a couple of weeks, she said.

About the third week of April, Bowman took Jones "with all his luggage, a duffle bag and overnight bag, like he was going to the bus station," recalled Joyner.

"And here he pops up again a couple weeks later," she recalled.

Joyner said that the last time she saw Bowman was May 1, the last time he paid the rent. Later, Jones contended that he was watching Bowman's apartment and demanded the mailbox key several times, she added.

The next time Bowman showed up at the apartment was on Tuesday - the same night his mother and another relative arrived to pack up and ask for the locks to be changed, said current and former managers.

Bowman's mother said she would pay for the locks and the back rent of $1,030 plus late fees, they said.

Jones' friend Hakim Carey, 17, was staying in an apartment just above Bowman's, said Joyner, who leased the apartment on May 1 to Shirl Norman, Carey's grandmother.

Carey, a 5-foot-9, 250-pound teen-ager, was in the apartment with Jones at the time Iverson allegedly threatened to kill them if they didn't tell him where his wife was. Both filed the police complaint.

On Monday night, Joyner said she confronted Jones in the middle of a media interview.

"You shouldn't even be here," she shouted at Jones. Bowman "is the one with the lease."

"Then why do I have this key?" retorted Jones, holding up an apartment key on a chain around his neck.

"I care about this building," she said. "I have friends here. They're like family.

If Joyner and others have complaints about Jones, they have even stronger complaints about his account to police.

She points out that it would have been difficult for Jones, Carey, Iverson and his uncle to all have been able to move about the tiny apartment the way Jones tells it.

Meantime, defense attorneys were predicting a slam dunk for Iverson, even before renowned attorney Richard Sprague clinched Iverson's retainer.

"He won't get convicted of anything," predicted attorney Chuck Peruto, Jr. "What the f--- did the guy do? He didn't do anything any other hot-blooded husband wouldn't do. He went out and got back what is his."

No jury in Philly "is going to destroy [Iverson's] career and run an NBA star out of town. It ain't going to happen," he added.

With no criminal records for Bowman, Jones or Carey, Iverson's attorneys are likely to focus on the credibility and motivation of his accusers, legal observers say.

"Assuming there's no physical evidence, this is a 'he-said, she-said' case. The question is: Who presents themselves more believably to the jury?" said attorney Sayde Ladov, a former Bronx district attorney.

Jones waited more than 10 hours after the alleged confrontation with Iverson before making a 911 call to police, according to the 911 transcript.

"That tells you everything you need to know about the severity of his accusations," said attorney Brian McMonagle. "If somebody came into my house and threatened me with a gun, it sure wouldn't take me 10 hours to make the phone call."

"You've got a defendant who's got great charisma and is loved in this city. You win by showing there's reasonable doubt. People don't want to believe our celebrities are criminals," said attorney Jack McMahon.

Their advice to A.I.: No deals, no copping any pleas, not this time. And one other thing: Keep on keepin' your mouth shut.