Gizoogle: Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day (aka how not to write a poem)

Shall I compare thee ta a summer’s day?
Thou art mo' ghettofab n' mo' temperate:
Rough windz do shake tha darlin budz of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a thugged-out date;
Sometime too bangin' tha eye of heaven shines,
And often is his wild lil' freakadelic gold complexion dimm'd;
And every last muthafreakin fair from fair sometime declines,
By chizzle or nature’s changin course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of dat fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall dirtnap brag thou wander’st up in his shade,
When up in eternal lines ta time thou grow’st:
So long as pimps can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, n' dis gives game ta thee.