I let smoke leave the house, but I never walk out the door. What am I?

A gas inside me lets me rise and works as a funny voice disguise. What am I?

Tiny blades rotate at speed, tearing with sharp tine. I'm not one to mince words, but mincing fruit? That's just fine.

Push me when you want to move And to the beat to hit the groove But to do well, first take a bow And make me fly aft you draw and let go

My powerhouse is known to all You use me when you want to call When you've done wrong and hear the bell, You must come back inside your ...