| Song | Culture for Dollars |
| Artist | Dälek |
| Album | Absence |
| 作曲 : Booth, Dälek, Oktopus | |
| Written word held weight | |
| Now honor at best recessive trait | |
| The sound and shape to come succumbed to malignant maelstrom | |
| Malformed mentals stained expected outcome | |
| And not to be outdone | |
| Some speak in half phrases | |
| No definition to brush strokes already out of phase with these statements | |
| Raise children off pavement | |
| Pulse on frauds hasten | |
| When confronted with styles from gutter basements | |
| Set to build like Freemasons, on three angles | |
| All I see are minstrel MCs on these channels | |
| Perceived battles only held to sell albums | |
| Propagate stereotypes that bleed out us | |
| Our own doubt us | |
| But I remain devout scholar of skills of forefathers | |
| Ignorance was forced on us | |
| Define honest, if we all breath diseased lies | |
| Define the MC if all he spits are weak lines | |
| Who trades his culture for dollars? | |
| The fool or the scholar? | |
| Griot? Poet? Or white collared? | |
| If my written word's slurs | |
| Then my speech correct | |
| Keep my meaning inferred to test your intellect | |
| If you remember Hip-Hop nigga, 'nuff respect | |
| Deadverse spoken with broken dialect | |
| Spoken word held meaning | |
| Hostile acts provoked | |
| Formed metaphors | |
| Created urban folklore | |
| Never meant for these upper echelon aurals | |
| That bought and stripped morals | |
| From art that's gift for us | |
| At heart I'm strict purist | |
| Spit thoughts for poorest | |
| 5'6" Honduran sights set on own ruin | |
| Rugged cadence meant to capture essence | |
| Ancestor's wrath festers under surface of uttered sentence | |
| Who trades his culture for dollars? | |
| The fool or the scholar? | |
| Griot? Poet? Or white collared? | |
| If my written word's slurs | |
| Then my speech correct | |
| Keep my meaning inferred to test your intellect | |
| If you remember Hip-Hop nigga, 'nuff respect | |
| Deadverse spoken with broken dialect |
| zuò qǔ : Booth, D lek, Oktopus | |
| Written word held weight | |
| Now honor at best recessive trait | |
| The sound and shape to come succumbed to malignant maelstrom | |
| Malformed mentals stained expected outcome | |
| And not to be outdone | |
| Some speak in half phrases | |
| No definition to brush strokes already out of phase with these statements | |
| Raise children off pavement | |
| Pulse on frauds hasten | |
| When confronted with styles from gutter basements | |
| Set to build like Freemasons, on three angles | |
| All I see are minstrel MCs on these channels | |
| Perceived battles only held to sell albums | |
| Propagate stereotypes that bleed out us | |
| Our own doubt us | |
| But I remain devout scholar of skills of forefathers | |
| Ignorance was forced on us | |
| Define honest, if we all breath diseased lies | |
| Define the MC if all he spits are weak lines | |
| Who trades his culture for dollars? | |
| The fool or the scholar? | |
| Griot? Poet? Or white collared? | |
| If my written word' s slurs | |
| Then my speech correct | |
| Keep my meaning inferred to test your intellect | |
| If you remember HipHop nigga, ' nuff respect | |
| Deadverse spoken with broken dialect | |
| Spoken word held meaning | |
| Hostile acts provoked | |
| Formed metaphors | |
| Created urban folklore | |
| Never meant for these upper echelon aurals | |
| That bought and stripped morals | |
| From art that' s gift for us | |
| At heart I' m strict purist | |
| Spit thoughts for poorest | |
| 5' 6" Honduran sights set on own ruin | |
| Rugged cadence meant to capture essence | |
| Ancestor' s wrath festers under surface of uttered sentence | |
| Who trades his culture for dollars? | |
| The fool or the scholar? | |
| Griot? Poet? Or white collared? | |
| If my written word' s slurs | |
| Then my speech correct | |
| Keep my meaning inferred to test your intellect | |
| If you remember HipHop nigga, ' nuff respect | |
| Deadverse spoken with broken dialect |