Joseph Edgar Foreman is still getting high. In a makeshift greenroom made from curtains at the Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas, Afroman, as he’s better known, inhales a blunt rolled by his videographer, who’s wearing a tight cocktail dress and clear sky-high heels. The 51-year-old rapper seems unconcerned that several thousand people are waiting for him, in a room far larger than the dive bars he’s been playing over the past two decades.
Foreman is wearing the same American Flag ensemble that he donned during his recent appearance in court (and now wears everywhere). In 2022, police officers raided his home in Winchester, Ohio, on suspicion of drugs and kidnapping. They found nothing except a jar filled with “green leafy vegetation,” THC wax, pipes, and more than $5,000 in cash. Following the raid, Foreman released a series of songs mocking the cops, rapping about having sex with their wives and their receding hairlines, among other humiliations. Seven of the officers sued him for $4 million for defamation and invasion of privacy. Foreman won, both the trial and the internet, where clips of the rapper on the stand spread like wildfire.
Going viral is Foreman’s forte, after all. He claims his biggest hit, the 2000 college kegger anthem “Because I Got High,” first introduced the concept; it’s doubtful, but he does have a knack for getting attention. As his case against the cops played out, Foreman’s cool demeanor and proselytizing about freedom of speech brought millions of listeners to his music. It didn’t hurt that the videos featured security camera footage of officers in his home. The most famous, “Lemon Pound Cake,” lampoons one who, during the raid, longingly eyed a pastry on the kitchen counter. It’s been watched nearly 10 million times on YouTube, and the cop, now known as “Officer Pound Cake,” said he was sent hundreds of pound cakes as a form of harassment.
The rapper’s court victory has also transformed him into a freedom fighter, which is why he’s in Vegas about to perform for a bunch of libertarian-lite crypto heads. The event’s programming director, Craig Deutsch, says Foreman’s “recent victory defending his right to make songs about the police who unjustly raided his home aligns perfectly with the Bitcoin mission.” The yearly Bitcoin Conference draws industry members but also middle-American couples who bought bitcoin when it was cheap and QAnon adherents who don’t trust anything too government-linked. More recently, it has become a popular tour stop for politicians looking to reach voters. President Trump keynoted during his 2024 presidential campaign; JD Vance spoke the following year. Now in its second year in Vegas, the event seems more popular than ever, despite the value of one bitcoin being down roughly $33,000 from a year ago.
The show’s emcee, Gregg Davis, enters the makeshift greenroom, now filled with smoke, and finds Foreman surrounded by his modest entourage: former pimp Bishop Don “Magic” Juan, Foreman’s emerald-suit-clad assistant, a couple other men passing blunts, and two young women in tight, shiny dresses.
“Is there anything you would like me to say to introduce you?” asks Davis.
“Say what’s on your heart,” Foreman replies, “and then, you know, the hungry, hustling American dream—if you can remember that—Afroman.”
The emcee thanks Foreman for “making this room smell fantastic.” Shortly thereafter, Foreman’s manager enters to gently announce that hotel staff have smelled the weed, and they’re threatening to call the cops.
