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It’s been more than two ­decades since America has seen a fighter like Floyd Mayweather: larger-than-life, villainous and vulgar, bigger than the sport, happy to offend.

For the past three years, he has been the highest-paid athlete in the world, worth an estimated $300 million. He goes by “Money” Mayweather and frequently posts pictures of his cash, private planes, Birkin bags and 80-plus pairs of red-soled Christian Louboutin sneakers, which retail for $3,000 a pop. He loves to talk about himself in the third person.

“No athlete works harder than Floyd Mayweather,” he has said. “I’m the best at talking trash. I’m also the best at going out there and backing it up.”

“Floyd’s like a WWE character come to life,” says Forbes senior editor Kurt Badenhausen, who covers sports. “And the character sells, no doubt about it.”

Mayweather’s highly anticipated fight with Manny Pacquiao next Saturday has generated worldwide coverage. It’s expected to rake in more than $74 million in ticket sales, $300million in North American pay-per-view buys, and $35 million in foreign-rights sales.

It’s the biggest, most exciting match since Mike Tyson fought Lennox Lewis in 2002.

Though Mayweather is not a heavyweight, he is the most famous fighter in the world, one whose outrageous behavior outside the ring has led to zero endorsement deals. He’s in the ­unprecedented position of being the face of American boxing and yet nowhere to be seen — not on billboards or bus kiosks, in magazines or airports.

Not that he cares. Mayweather claims he doesn’t want to answer to anyone.

“Floyd has a monstrous, monstrous ego,” says Dan Rafael, senior boxing writer at ESPN. “But whatever people’s opinions of him are — whether it’s his fighting style or his criminal activity — he’s one of the best ever. He is a Hall of Fame fighter.”

Every great fight has a good guy and a bad guy. Mayweather, 38, is always the bad guy, but in Pacquiao — 36, devoutly Christian, likely future president of the Philippines — Mayweather has his greatest opponent, ­athletically and narratively.

“Good against evil” is how Pacquiao’s camp is billing the fight, claiming God is on their side. Asked to respond last Thursday, Mayweather laughed.

“That’s a terrible question,” he said. “God loves us all.”

He went on to describe first meeting Pacquiao at a Miami Heat game last February.

“He looked shocked when he saw how much bigger and taller I am than him,” Mayweather said. “I’ve beaten everyone for 17 years. I know what I can do.”

It wasn’t as charged as his comments in 2010, when he threatened the Filipino champ even though yet another round of negotiations had collapsed.

“Once I stomp the midget,” Mayweather said, “I’ll make that motherf--ker make me a sushi roll and cook me some rice.”

Floyd Mayweather was born on Feb. 4, 1977, in Grand Rapids, Mich. His father, Floyd Sr., was a former welterweight who once fought Sugar Ray Leonard. And his uncle Roger was a two-time champ in different weight classes.

Family lore has “Little Floyd” learning to walk and box at age 1. During the day, his father took him to the gym. At night, Floyd Sr. dealt drugs, and in a family dispute, he used 1-year-old Floyd Jr. as a human shield. Senior took a bullet to the leg — from a 20-gauge fired by his brother-in-law — and later wound up in jail.

“This is all I got in my world — my son,” Mayweather Sr. told Sports Illustrated in 2005. “So if you’re going to kill me, shoot.”

“I never had a stable home,” Mayweather Jr. told the Los Angeles Times in 2012. “My mom did drugs. My dad tried to live his career through me.”

He lost an aunt to AIDS and lived in a cramped New Jersey apartment with seven relatives.

“Once I got old enough to pay my own bills, I let [my father] know I didn’t need him anymore,” Mayweather Jr. said. “The main thing I learned is to believe in yourself. You have to. Because no one else will.”

His uncle Roger trained him to be a defensive fighter: fast on his feet, hard to hit. He was small — 5-foot-8 and 106 pounds when he started out — and fought as a featherweight. (He now weighs in at 147.)

Mayweather went by “Pretty Boy Floyd” and won Golden Gloves in 1993, 1994 and 1996 — the year he also won a bronze at the Olympics. And in October 1996, during his first professional bout, he knocked out his opponent in two rounds.

“Early in his career, there was every expectation that Mayweather was going to be a very, very important boxer,” says Showtime boxing analyst Al Bernstein. “But I think he decided he was going to do it on his terms.”

Mayweather worked his way up to welterweight, undefeated, and in 2008 cut ties with his promoter and changed his nickname: “Pretty Boy Floyd” became “Money,” an arrogant, boastful superstar with a harem, an entourage, an epic gambling habit and an endless capacity to discuss his greatness.

“No athlete works harder than Floyd Mayweather.”

He used reality TV to his great advantage, selling HBO on the series “24/7,” which followed him and rival Oscar de la Hoya in the run-up to their bout. He’s a promiscuous user of social media, posting his latest acquisitions, be they clothes, cars or celebrities.

“He plays that ‘Money Mayweather’ character. He understands it,” says ESPN’s Rafael. “When he took on, with glee, the villain role, all of a sudden, the cash register started to ring.”

“When Floyd made this transformation from ‘Pretty Boy,’ he decided he was going to wear the black hat,” says Forbes’ Badenhausen. “He eggs people on. He’s done a lot of things over the years to become a polarizing figure and has driven a lot of people to his fights.”

Mayweather — who says he’s better than Muhammad Ali — has failed to take all the right lessons. Ali was a braggart with subtext, boasting of his beauty when it was unheard of for black men to do so. He stood for causes, from civil rights to conscientious objection. But Mayweather is a pure product of our selfie culture, his narcissism and greed overshadowing any charisma he might possess.

His respect for Ali, naturally, centers on himself. “I’m going to take my hat off,” he said. “[Ali] paved the way for me.”

As Mayweather rose, he distinguished himself as an unbeatable fighter with real business savvy — he’s his own promoter, setting conditions and saving the cut.

“Pay-per-view paydays are astronomical,” Badenhausen says. “Floyd has a one-of-a-kind business model in which he controls all the revenues for his fights.”

Mayweather and Pacquiao will split an estimated $300million, 60-40.

“Floyd’s like a WWE character come to life.”

Among boxers, Mayweather’s discipline is rare. He’s in the gym an average of three hours a day, famed for his midnight runs, and never falls out of shape.

“Despite all the out-of-the-ring stuff, he’s just a virtuoso defensive fighter,” says veteran boxing reporter Larry Merchant. “He’s become the best pure boxer of his time.”

But Merchant, like many critics, finds fault with Mayweather as a fighter. He is cautious, evasive, bloodless.

“Floyd’s first priority is not to get hit, and his second priority is not to get hit,” Merchant says. “While that’s a style that appeals to pros, it often leads to boring, one-sided fights. So he’s been very clever about creating a great fight ­before the bell rings.”

Mayweather — whose record is 47-0, 26 KOs — has also been accused of waiting out rivals. He fought a past-his-prime de la Hoya in 2007 and had ducked a bout with Pacquiao since 2009.

Mayweather rolls with an entourage called “TMT,” or “The Money Team,” which has included Justin Bieber, Warren Buffett, Prince Michael Jackson and 50 Cent. When he and 50 had a falling-out, the rapper said the boxer was ­illiterate, and audio leaked of Mayweather struggling to read a radio promo.

There is no one in Mayweather’s circle to hold him to account, and the bad-guy rep isn’t just an act. In 2012, he served two months in prison for domestic battery. Josie Harris, who has three children with Mayweather, told police, “He grabbed my by the hair and threw me on the ground and started punching me on my head with his fist and twisting my arm back and telling me he is going to kill me.”

It wasn’t the first time Mayweather faced charges of assaulting women — his rap sheet goes back to 2002 — and he did himself no favors comparing women to possessions in the Showtime documentary “30 Days in May.”

“When it comes to females — even though you can’t drive 10 cars at one time, but you got people that got 10 cars,” he said. “So if you’re able to keep up maintenance on 10 cars, I feel that, as far as when it comes to females, that one thing should apply. If you’re able to take care of 20, then you should have 20.”

And in this corner: Manny Pacquiao (57-5, 38 KOs), the fighter who has built a church and hospitals, who donates 1 million pesos per fight, who sits in congress in the Philippines, who pays the bills for total strangers.

Mayweather typically avoids ­issues of race, but it’s interesting to note how easy it has been for Pacquiao to assume the mantle of righteousness — even though, according to a recent profile in New York magazine, Pacquiao is under investigation, in the United States and at home, for millions of dollars in unpaid taxes. He has a child with a woman — not his wife — whom he refuses to acknowledge or support financially. He once slapped a trusted aide for neglecting to put warm milk in his broth.

“Money is the root of all evil,” he said last week. “I don’t want to judge [Mayweather] or criticize him ... I’m just hoping and praying he will also help the poor people using that money that God gave him.”

If he knows what’s good for his image, Mayweather won’t.

“The last time I checked, this is what the American dream is,” Mayweather said in 2012. “Who doesn’t want to be rich and make this kind of money? They told me when I was growing up that dreams come true. I dreamed it and made it happen.”

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