[ WP ] You are a serial killer . Each murder you commit adds a new voice to your head .

Daring, dashing, and with a dash of cunning. That is how I operate. I like to indulge special hobbies at night... namely, murder. The face of utter despair, fear, and 
 torment is why I do what I do. The pure amusement of playing God. My victims are always full of hope because I pick them ripe and ready to face the ultimate injustice this world has to offer... death. 
 Today, my victim is considered to be the pioneer and forefather of Hip Hop. Ahaha! I can not wait to feast on his despair. His life is finally is starting to peak, but he'll learn that his peak is a climax soon enough. I approach his apartment with bold footsteps. I knock 3 times ( being methodical helps ) and await his answer. He opens the door with skeptical hands; a sense of hesitation surrounds him. `` May I help you?'' says the bigshot. `` Why, yes. I would like your autograph! I spent 3 months researching your whereabouts so that I could have this moment!'' He looks at me with disbelief. `` At three in the morning?!'' He exclaimed. `` Have you not heard of this saying? The early bird gets the worm!'' `` Please good sir, allow me this one request.'' The bigshot looked at me with analytical eyes and said:'' Fine, just do n't leak my whereabouts to the internet.'' He signs his name on my notebook with the pen I gave him. `` Thank you, good sir, you've signed your death at this very moment.'' I strolled into his room with a jolly skip. `` What?! Are you crazy? Get out of here before I call the cops!'' Fool. He does not know that I have drenched that pen with poison that kills on contact. `` Heh, you know not of your own death. You have the world's deadliest poison on your fingertips. A quick death awaits you. Precisely... 60 seconds.'' The bigshot starts coughing blood, unable to sound a letter let alone a word. I observe his face. The euphoria of murder, how magnificent! 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... The bigshot's heart stops. His entire life has led to this very moment. I leave the autograph as the contract for his death and go on my merry way. 
 The very next day, I woke up with a headache. This usually happens when I stay up working on my passion projects... however, I hear this strange sound in my head. Echoing `` Hammer... hammer... hammer.'' I have no hammers here, so what could it be referring to? The strange sounds start getting clearer and clearer, almost like a voice. `` U Ca n't Touch This.'' This is maddening! Touch what? Is this the kind of garbage young people listen to? `` 2 LEGIT... 2 LEGIT 2 QUIT.'' I can not take this. I am going back to bed. I pass out with these voices chanting `` U Ca n't Touch This.'' and `` 2 LEGIT... 2 LEGIT 2 QUIT.''
