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Bfb Da Packman is late to work. “A nigga be tired!” he yells over FaceTime as he rushes to his morning shift at a Houston post office. Sitting behind the wheel of his car, sweat runs down his forehead, his thick, black-framed glasses are crooked, and his plain white tee is as creased as an accordion. I offer to reschedule our interview to a time when he’s not supposed to be on the clock, but Packman insists. “Nigga, I don’t got no regular job, I’m my own boss,” he says, bringing his phone so close to his head I can only see his eyes. “I just deliver the mail, and nobody gives a shit.”
Once Packman makes it to work, his stress dissipates. He enters his passcode, makes small talk with his co-workers, and begins to divide up the mail for his route, all while offering jokes and words of motivation: “We can’t change the world unless we change ourselves—Biggie said that in some movie, I think.” It’s such an everyday scene that I begin to forget that this is the same guy who recently made one of the most outrageous—and best—rap songs of the year.
Nearly every aspect of “Free Joe Exotic,” a five-minute shit-talking marathon with Detroit’s Sada Baby, is potentially offensive. In the video, which has collected more than 10 million views in about six weeks, Packman lets loose an onslaught of self-deprecating punchlines while humping a car and wearing a bright orange hoodie that reads “STILL HIV POSITIVE.” “She said she can feel it in her stomach, stop capping/Ol’ lyin’ ass bitch, my dick ain’t that big,” he raps at one point, before comparing himself to the portly starfish from SpongeBob SquarePants: “My bitch about to leave me cause I’m built like Patrick.” Somehow, he even turns Sada Baby, one of rap’s most animated characters, into the song’s straight man.
But since Packman’s putdowns are mostly self-directed, and since he’s often seen rolling on the ground and/or lifting up his shirt to let his belly free, it’s hard to get that offended by the brutal words leaving his mouth. “Free Joe Exotic” even converted his biggest critic. “I knew it was hot cause my mama said it was, and she don’t like my music,” he says.
Packman doesn’t care too much about who he offends anyway. “You think I give a fuck about that?” he says while marking a cardboard box with a Sharpie. “I’m not one of these new age rappers. I’m talking about real shit, and if it doesn’t go over well, I’ll just go back to the post office.”
The 25-year-old born Tyree Jawan Thomas has been living in Houston for the last four years, after spending most of his life in Flint, Michigan. Talking about his infamously neglected hometown, he’s both nostalgic and matter-of-fact. “There’s a lot of murder and mayhem, and you really gotta hustle to get by, but there’s beauty in the struggle,” he reflects, name-dropping some of his favorite old spots, like Donna’s Donuts and Big John Steak & Onion. His optimism is contagious, even when he brings up bleaker times. When he was in middle school, his mom lost her job, and his older brother went to jail. “So when I was 12 I started slapping that shit—selling dope right out my mama’s house,” he says.
In Flint, Packman fell in love with rap. The influential Detroit crew Doughboyz Cashout became the soundtrack to his life, and he swears he was the only dude in the streets who loved Drake. Despite Packman’s singular personality, his style is closely aligned with his hometown. Michigan’s rap scene has always cherished songs that are deeply rooted in reality, and the current wave of Flint rappers—including Rio Da Yung OG, Louie Ray, and YN Jay—take that legacy to heart. Sounding like they’re reciting stories passed down through generations, they take real anecdotes about violence and drug dealing, make them more extreme, and then pack as many as they can into a single verse. It’s similar to Detroit rap in its sound—they use many of the same producers—but it can be a more overwhelming and uncomfortable experience, with lyrics that are often taboo and darkly hilarious. “When you think about Michigan, everyone thinks about Detroit,” says Packman, as he stops working for a moment. “But we’re making it that you gotta think about Flint, too. That’s beautiful, and I’m grateful to be a part of it.”
For as much as Packman adored Flint, he realized there were no legitimate opportunities for him there. After a close call with the law, he followed his mother to Houston, where he began to go to school and lay down tracks in a proper recording studio. He currently lives there with his two young kids and their mother. At the end of 2018, Packman began working for the United States Postal Service, a job he’s proud of and talks about endlessly. “I’m just grateful to not be on unemployment right now,” he says with a grin. “Shit, as soon as I heard about the job I was like, ‘Sign me the fuck up!’”
Like any rapper in 2020, Packman is hyper-aware that he’s building a brand. But unlike any other rapper in 2020, Packman’s brand is largely based on fat jokes (“I was born fat, and even if I lose some weight, I’m going to be a fat nigga in my heart,” he tells me) and puns about STDs. He even put out a mixtape called STD last year. “Everything I say is authentic,” he says when I ask about all those STD references. He then lowers his voice—he’s still at work, after all—and adds, “We all caught one before, or if you haven’t you will. People be scared to speak on it, but it’s not really that bad. Get a shot and in a couple days it goes away.”
“What about the ‘STILL HIV POSITIVE’ sweatshirt?” I ask. “Do you think it will rub people the wrong way?”
“Nah, nothing like that,” he says, becoming slightly more guarded. “I just wanted to know how people feel about HIV. Like people being HIV positive.”
“Do you think it comes across like that? It’s such a sensitive issue.”
“I know, but I have morals. I really know people with HIV. I would never sell one of the hoodies or anything, it’s just an issue that means a lot to me.”
Even with some of these questionable moments, Packman’s music remains incredibly fun. It’s hard not to smile while watching the video for his new single, “Made Me Mad,” where he humps a car (again) and eats fries off of the ground outside of a McDonald’s. What more could you want? Of course, he gets in some digs, too, this time at the expense of his family. “My kids kinda ugly, had to ask her if they’re really mine,” he raps. “Man, my kids beautiful, but I do be asking her that sometimes,” he says with a guilty laugh; the line got him cursed out by their mother.
Back at the post office, Packman gets a little frustrated after a few co-workers whisper in his ear. “They on some bullshit today,” he says, looking unconcerned.
“Is somebody upset because you’re on FaceTime at work?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think it was because you were late?”
“Nigga, you know as much as I do,” says Packman. He then walks outside, gets in his car, and begins to drive off. “They told me I’m not working today, to come back tomorrow,” he says with a shrug.
“What does that mean for the rest of your day?”
“Shit, guess I got some time to go rap.”
