I'm ready. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. Where did he go? Steadily, I approach. I suck a strap with my medley. Them not knowin' I'm beautiful but deadly. Remove the pen from my pocket. Take the mic. Plug it in the socket. Proceed to rock it. No need to stop it if the beat is dope. Quincy D.O. drop it for the blonde bomb shell from hell. And if you call me a devil, well, I'm Italian. But if you wanna step and get wild, I'll take your ass out mafia style. Nine millimeters of rhyme on the charts with a bullet. Got my finger on the trigger, then they pull it. But bein' controversial, not commercial, I'm down. Back to the sound of the underground. I got the gat on the strap. You on the scope. Gun on the rack. Call Murder She Wrote. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. Where did he go? My ballpoint pen is my weapon. Loaded with knowledge, my lyrics are steppin'. Better yet, kept in my mind. And to find the key, you gotta rewind. Well, talk to me. No idle threats intended. Straight up fact, like the management company that stands in back of this woman. And assuming that the girl ain't down, we'll lead you to the label where trees call town. I'm brown, I'm black. As a matter of fact, I'm white. So believe the hype. Deep six in the mix. Quincy D.E. kicks the bass as they open the case. But there ain't no witness. She can't get with this. And if you try, you'll end up on my hit list. So guess the rest. Presque quote. Dead on arrival for Murder, She Wrote. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. Where did he go? A low profile, that's the style. My set don't sweat, no need to get wild. When it comes to violence, I'm down for the crime. No silencer on this rhyme. I'm a psycho-cidal, the title is murder. If you're pointin' the finger, then you heard her. The lips are red, pen packin' lead. Not soft comin' off from the top of my head. You better off dead than to try to get raw. I'm the gangster's maw above the law. Yeah, I said it, wanna make somethin' of it? Go ahead, step up, the crowd'll love it. And you'll be played like a snitch. While introduced to a ruthless bitch. So on that note, here's one last quote. Case closed. That's all she wrote. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. I'm actin' as a microphone murderin' emcees. Murder, she wrote. Rest in peace. Murder, she wrote. Hereby, the Quincy D. Sound Lab. And of course, the rest of the Cop Town Posse.