We cannot call a mortal bein happy before he’s passed beyond game free from pain

Is it wrong to be piping the classics of Greek Tragedy through the Gizoogle Textilizer?

PRIEST: Oedipus, rula of mah natizzle land,
      you peep how tha fuck playas here of every last muthafuckin age
      is crouchin down round yo' altars,
      some fledglings barely phat enough ta fly
      n' others bent by age, wit priests as well -
      fo' I’m priest of Zeus - n' these ones here,
      tha pick of all our youth. 

OEDIPUS: What tha fuck iz tha oracle, biatch? So far yo' lyrics
      inspire up in me no confidence or fear.
CREON: If you wish ta hear tha shizzle up in public,
      I’m prepared ta speak. Or we could step inside.
OEDIPUS: Speak up ta everyone. Da grief I feel
      fo' these playa hatas is even pimped outer
      than any pain I feel fo' mah own game.
CREON: Then let me report what tha fuck I heard from tha god.
      Lord Phoebus clearly ordaz our asses ta drive away
      tha shittin' on stain dis land has harboured-
      which aint gonna be healed if we keep nursin dat shit.

--------------------------------------------------

 If it is then I don't want to be right.

CREON: Laius was killed. And now the god is clear:
those murderers, he tells us, must be punished,
whoever they may be.
OEDIPUS:                       And where are they?
In what country? Where am I to find a trace
of this ancient crime? It will be hard to track.

CREON: Laius was capped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And now tha god is clear:
      dem murderers, tha pimpin' muthafucka drops some lyrics ta us, must be punished,
      whoever they may be.
OEDIPUS:                       And where is they?
      In what tha fuck ghetto, biatch? Where is I ta find a trace
      of dis ancient crime, biatch? It is ghon be hard ta track.