Do What They Say

by John E Cab

  • Cassette + Digital Album

    Tape plays as a continuous listening experience with no gaps. Songs blend together.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Do What They Say via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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    edition of 40 

      $6 USD or more 


  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $6 USD  or more




released May 13, 2014

Artwork by ILL CLinton
All tracks written, composed, and produced by John E Cab except

01. Last Summer - features Phunky Man P.M. Eaton on guitar
02. Post Mortem - features John Morrison on the microphone and Peter Veloski on trumpet.
09. Do What They Say - Produced by Sidney Polak and John E Cab, Drums and Bass by Chuck Treece. Drums and Bass recorded by Will Yip at Studio 4.

All tracks mixed and mastered by John E Cab except

01. Last Summer - Mixed by Michael "Bump" Fountain
02. Post Mortem - Mixed by Michael "Bump" Fountain
09. Do What They Say - Mixed and mastered by Will Yip at Studio 4.



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John E Cab Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Producer/MC/Engineer from Philly

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Track Name: Post Mortem
John Morrison's Verse
Sugar my tongue touch neon bloodstream
And we can hear crickets in the midnight trees
Burn like a bush but a mean little Moses
And his face bled roses
Dozed off in a six ten haze
And I woke up all soaked in radio waves
Back in them days we made quick sand
And walked around amazed
Pen on pavement body so drained
Grab an umbrella it smells like rain
Have a nice day try to maintain
Double dutch rope make circles sideways
Spark plug frame throw heads in halos at three point range
Pauli got a bullet in his brain
Then we watched his ghost fly up out of his grave

Cab's verse
Stumbled off the plane was a buzzin in my brain
Transatlantic flight sippin booze the whole way
Fiendin for the love I left behind still faithful
Ache though crashed out alone back home
Roaimin my email a message from my brother
Suicide inscription mental friction
Rode to B-More where he laid with slashed wristsz
Broke my Moms down to itty bitty pixels
Pumped his stomach he was still alive sho
Can it be that it all was so simple before?
Tried it again a week later freak nature
Interrupted twice by a brother trying to save ya
Doctors couldn't praying he alive
No hope left inside what he told me eye to eye
Missing knew he gone phone ringing at my side
Was my father said your brother's dead listen as he cried

Third verse (not on tape)
Fall out post mortem shock rocked him
No bringing him back still never forgotten
My girl flew in held her close gently rocking
Made love for some hour right there in JFK parking
Back to Philly funeral some days later
Momma prayed for many years now she gave up on a savior
Can I save her nah that's just the way it be
Took a suicide bomb to bring together family
Shame on us nah shame on him
Ain't no one left to blame everyone a sin
Ain't nobody win there's one less in the fam
Pop's hiding out now what's left of the man?
Mom's a empty shell sister trying to help someone
I'm tryin to stop gettin high feels like I'm fronting
Staring at his grave this bullshit's all for nothing
Bro I'm sorry for the worst and I pray you're not suffering...
Track Name: The Night Shift
1st Verse
night time hack slackin off trees and sweet mackin dem broads
while night time flight seekers pissed yackin they souls forth
broken lost words of the old oaths
new world computer binary digital roads north
young bucks all sprechen ze slang
Now reckon with weapons ze bang
this ain't Beckham and Posh Spice
fuck his contract and his cunt wife
I'm sittin sick in a crown vic with a blunt knife
copped off fiend dice the squeegee man
Bridge and Pratt cab stand home a da sleazy man
Ruski hot blooded Nigerian refugee got bad touched by a clergy
waiting for fares man there ain't none there
rolled under the EL the scene was like hell
dope spot thugs squeezin off shotgun shells
and runts out the PJ's deliverin mail

Verse 2
Woke then smoke the days is all haze
a fog a dialogue a log a gone pay
We long way from youths to brute peddlin
chillin in white wall tenement crew settlements
I run routes through urban playgrounds
where the villainous kids is finnin to lay down
callin me old head son don't play now
pull ya head out ya ass have you shittin ya brains out
you tame lame in the vein I'm warm
I'm red blood liquor thicker than a dame in porn
get off my tube dancin I bomb ya mcmansions
Islamic with tantrums it's karmic you can't run
underachiever playing cleaver wit eager beavers
eager to be believers in my ether or Cleveland steamer
John E Cab high boss in lowlands
hold vagina in Chinatown lofts like Lo Pan

Verse 3
Philly PA don't want no leeway
for me to get paid I should have deejayed
Ole Ole Ole bols is rushin in
fuckin wit nuggets and bumpin chins knucklin
runnin gully no tippin tricks across town
while corner generals orderin sentinels around
no wonder my thunder stay underground
hon ya plump jugs are fun to play tug around
wit a crane to the back of my neck
"Collateral" what you expect without a ounce of respect
lookin at every face studying hard
cards are called played by you fuckin retards
I was amazed before my neck was grazed
now it's all the same predictable and plain
Not talking raps or hiphop run meter sit back relax at pit stops
Track Name: New Shoes Never Last
Fence up the border whole world getting smaller
private space shrinking faster than the value of a dollar
transgression follow superpower comp try us
like a master baiter hooking a line finnin to fry us
everyone pious think they point of view matter
competition of ideas usher in the new disaster
behind the lies trace the route to the cash
true blues for the masses new shoes never last...