As we make our way through the city, there’s no way to get a specific read on Sada—his actions and words depend on his mood, which changes by the minute. Several times, he gets up and walks away from everyone mid-conversation, without warning. He disappears while strolling through Midtown only to be found in a home goods store in search of a Dickie’s sweatsuit. He’s already dressed like a Nike-sponsored basketball player who just left practice, in a snow white hoodie, blue high top sneakers, and blue sweatpants with a red bandana tied around his right knee. At one point, he shows up to streetwear mogul Jeff Staples’ showroom and half-heartedly selects even more sweatsuits to add to his collection.

He’s annoyed by a lot of things: the Detroit Pistons dancer who told him she wants to be a stripper (he rolls his eyes at the memory), a pair of basketball shoes purchased for him sitting in the back of the SUV (he smacks them away), his recent single “Slide” (“It’s cool, I guess”). He can afford to shrug off his new song because he’s constantly dipping into a seemingly endless well of tracks. Since last fall, Sada has uploaded a music video exclusively to YouTube nearly every week, with each one collecting around 5 million views. It’s a streak that’s currently taking his sound beyond the Midwest. “That’s been my regimen since the early days,” says Sada, in a vacant conference room, leaning back far enough in a swivel chair that his thick and faintly red dreads are nearly touching the ground. “I don’t like being slowed down. I like dropping whatever I feel like at my pace.”

Of Sada Baby’s output in the last several months, “SkubaRu” might be the best track. On it, he shrieks, “His daddy was a jive turkey, so we had to ham him” with the passion of Triple H the week before Wrestlemania. Typically his verses are delivered over traditional Detroit instrumentals, complete with horror movie-ready pianos, funky basslines, pounding drums, and pop samples. But it’s his music videos, usually uploaded to hometown YouTube channels like Jerry Production and The Hip Hop Lab, that really bring everything to life. No matter if he’s reflecting on pain or laughing at the misfortune of others, the video will feature Sada Baby on a street corner, near a convenience store, or in front of an ambulance, dancing like he’s on an episode of Soul Train. “I can’t help it, even if I’m talking about drugs or making basketball analogies I’m gon’ dance,” he says. “I’m a memeable motherfucker.”

Now, Sada Baby is adjusting to life as one of hip-hop’s premier personalities. “I’m cool with 80 percent of the memes and Twitter videos I see myself in,” he says. As he’s talking, he decides to FaceTime Lil Yachty, who is clearly not expecting the call. When the Atlanta rapper answers, he happens to be holding a baby doll that looks just like him. Yachty proceeds to put the phone down for a second and returns with another baby doll that looks like 21 Savage. Sada nearly slides out of his chair from laughter. (The origin of the dolls is unclear.) After the short call, Sada’s demeanor quickly changes again. He makes rare direct eye contact so he can end his unfinished thought, “Listen, if people want to mimic my dances or make jokes, it’s cool, just don’t disrespect me.” Just like everything he says—in his raps or sitting in a New York office—Sada Baby means it.