I've Got Rhymes

Return of the living dead, I see drug dealers in shorts,

Staying clean myself thank you, never done the snorts.

I've got rhymes, no ghost-writers, why would I cheat?

Life's choices are a gamble, stop beating your meat.

I studied all the rap cyphers, don't chase pied pipers,

Spotted some serpent symbolism on red Dodge Vipers.

Hammering metal, creating a battle-axe of pure might,

Chopping off dark claws who want to stop me doing right.

Crescent moon's and eclipses but the cheerleader couldn't be saved,

I dropped the pint glasses and bottles, while you went out and raved.