These Times

It's now made it in my rhymes,
Proof I'm hating these times.
All these horrible music stabs,
The whip nay nays and dabs.
Where's the slow dance and 2-step,
I'll take it over all this dubstep.
In the ages of pure love turmoil,
Where no one really wants loyal.
Times when you try to be flirty,
Just to be labled as plain thirsty.
Times with liars and cheaters boasting,
While gentlemen get the ghosting.
Chilvary is not gone and dead,
Just been re-labled now instead.
Now to be nice and show respect,
Only brings on the negative effect.
To be a vile and rude low life punk,
Is what everyone calls super crunk.
Looked at as if it's a major sin,
To open the door to let her in.
Now I see it deep in my rhymes,
Maybe I don't belong in these times.