Slow Your Roll

I seldom glance on shabby chaps;
Where is their sense of worth?
Surely not in their vulgar raps
No matter how noble the birth.
I won't condone the box they beat,
As it is violence to rhyme
And all the lyrics they mistreat
In uncivilized double time!
With speed there is no loving craft,
Only a needless sense of urgency,
Which has me think the lad is daft
Or in a verse emergency...
Where forebrains are perversely mucked
Like sewage in an aqueduct.