In a courtroom showdown that’s straight out of a reality TV script, Florida rapper Kodak Black, real name Bill K. Kapri, has been slapped with a hefty $10,000-per-month child support order for his two young children with ex-girlfriend Maranda Johnson. The Broward County judge didn’t stop there, mandating an additional $50,000 lump sum to help Johnson buy a reliable car for transporting their kids safely, plus a whopping $90,000 to cover her mounting lawyer fees in this drawn-out custody war. The ruling, handed down on October 10, 2025, comes as Kodak’s personal life spirals further into public chaos, with allegations of domestic violence, brawling baby mamas, and a growing brood of five kids now demanding his attention and fortune. For a 28-year-old who’s risen from Pompano Beach’s trap houses to platinum plaques, this financial hit underscores the high stakes of fame, fatherhood, and fractured relationships in the hip-hop world.
Kodak Black burst onto the scene in 2016 with his breakout single “No Flockin’,” a gritty anthem that captured the raw energy of South Florida’s street life. Born Dieuson Octave on June 11, 1997, in Pompano Beach, he grew up in the Golden Acres projects, a place he often raps about as both a badge of honor and a battleground. Dropping out of high school in 10th grade after multiple suspensions, Kodak honed his craft on SoundCloud, blending melodic flows with unfiltered lyrics about hustling, heartbreak, and survival. Signed to Atlantic Records that same year, his debut album Painting Pictures (2017) debuted at No. 3 on the Billboard 200, spawning hits like “Tunnel Vision” that peaked at No. 6 on the Hot 100. Follow-ups like Project Baby 2 (2019) and Bill Israel (2020) solidified his status, but Kodak’s career has been as volatile as his rhymes—interrupted by arrests for everything from probation violations to federal gun charges.
His legal ledger is long and infamous. In 2019, Kodak faced federal weapons possession charges after police found a gun and oxycodone in his car outside a Miami Beach hotel. A presidential pardon from Donald Trump in 2021—hailed by supporters as a second chance—freed him after serving time in a Miami federal prison. But freedom brought fresh troubles: a 2022 DUI arrest in Florida, a 2023 Broward County stop for erratic driving where he tested positive for cocaine and oxycodone, and a brief stint behind bars for failing drug tests. By early 2024, he was detained at the U.S.-Mexico border on smuggling charges, only to be released after pleading guilty to parole violations. Through it all, Kodak’s music endured; his 2024 single “Shampoo” went viral, and he dropped bars on fatherhood in tracks like “Princess Diana,” name-dropping his kids amid tales of redemption.
Fatherhood, however, has been Kodak’s most turbulent verse. At just 28, he’s already a dad to five children with four different women, a family tree tangled in lawsuits, social media feuds, and tabloid headlines. His eldest, a son born in 2017, shares a mother with another of his exes, Jammiah “Bunny” Broomfield, whose 2024 burglary charges (later dropped) stemmed from a alleged dust-up with yet another baby mama. Then there’s Daijanae Ward, mother to 3-year-old Princess Isabella, born July 7, 2022—a child Kodak celebrated with Instagram posts of diamond-encrusted chains and family photoshoots. But the epicenter of the storm is Maranda Johnson, the 25-year-old reality TV star from Netflix’s W.A.G.s to Riches, who shares 3-year-old daughter Queen Yuri and 19-month-old son Prince with the rapper.
Their relationship, which flickered from romance to rancor, imploded spectacularly. Johnson alleges the abuse kicked off in June 2023, escalating to physical beatings—even when she was seven months pregnant with Prince. “He repeatedly beaten her,” court docs claim, detailing incidents where Kodak allegedly grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against walls. They split in March 2024, but not before welcoming Prince on February 27, 2024, in a home birth Kodak himself delivered, a moment Johnson gushed about on X: “A prince was born… Our midwife really let Bill deliver our son himself.” Fast-forward to August 2024: Chaos erupted at a birthday bash for one of Kodak’s daughters in Fort Lauderdale. Johnson and Broomfield traded blows in a parking lot brawl caught on police body cams—hair-pulling, screaming, and property damage that left the rented venue in shambles. Only one witness cooperated with cops, but the fallout was swift: Johnson arrested for burglary and grand theft (charges dismissed), and the incident lit the fuse for today’s support ruling.
The custody saga escalated in February 2025 when Johnson filed an emergency petition, accusing Kodak of snatching their son Prince without notice and ghosting her on his whereabouts for nearly three weeks. “He took our son from me and won’t give him back!” she vented in court filings, painting a picture of a frantic mother left in the dark. She demanded sole custody, supervised visits for Kodak, and a child support hike from the previous $4,200 monthly order (set in 2017 for his first child but applied loosely here). Kodak’s camp fired back, with attorney Bradford Cohen insisting, “Any allegations that he has not supported his children financially are 100% false.” They touted voluntary payments: $100,000 in January 2024 for home furnishings (disputed as support), full tuition for the kids’ schooling, and ongoing extras like private security for Johnson’s home. No domestic violence charges stuck against Kodak, Cohen noted, flipping the script on Johnson’s own legal woes.
By summer 2025, the battle raged on. Kodak, fresh off receiving Pompano Beach’s key to the city on July 8 for his charity work—donating AC units, turkeys, and rent aid to 200 families—doubled down on his provider image. In a July Instagram Live, he ranted about child support as an “economic harm,” quipping he’d ban it if he made laws: “Women havin’ kids with rich dudes just to trap ’em— that’s killin’ the game!” Fans split: some hailed his candor, others dragged him for dodging dad duties. Johnson, meanwhile, went public with bruises and voice notes, per leaked reports, while announcing Kodak’s fifth child on the way with an unnamed woman in August 2024—a “legacy extender,” as Kodak called it in a freestyle.
The October 10 ruling from Broward Family Court Judge Susan J. Aramony was a gut punch. Citing Kodak’s estimated $1.2 million annual income from music, endorsements, and merch, the judge upped support to $10,000 monthly for Queen and Prince—covering childcare, medical, and extracurriculars. The $50,000 car fund? A direct response to Johnson’s pleas about unsafe transport; her beat-up SUV had broken down twice during custody handoffs, stranding the kids in sweltering Florida heat. And the $90,000 attorney fees? A reimbursement for the 18-month legal marathon, fueled by depositions, psych evals, and that infamous brawl footage. Kodak must pay within 30 days, with liens on his assets if he balks. “This ensures stability for the children,” Aramony stated, emphasizing Kodak’s “pattern of inconsistency” despite his wealth.
Kodak’s reaction was predictably raw. Hours after the hearing, he hopped on X, posting a blurry court sketch with the caption: “They tryna break a real one, but God got me. Pray for my seeds.” Fans flooded his mentions—support from die-hards (“Free the goat, this system’s rigged”), shade from critics (“Pay up, playa—u got 5 kids, not 5 excuses”). His mom, Marcel Black, a fixture in his inner circle, was spotted leaving court teary-eyed, whispering to reporters, “Bill’s a good dad; he just needs peace.” Johnson, meanwhile, celebrated quietly on her private IG Story: a photo of the kids in car seats, captioned “Finally safe rides ahead. Blessings.”
This isn’t Kodak’s first support skirmish. Back in 2017, he shelled out $4,200 monthly for his firstborn, a deal he griped about in lyrics like “They want my bread, but I ain’t breadwinner yet.” But with five mouths to feed—and rumors of baby No. 6 swirling—this could dent his $5 million net worth. Still, the rapper’s bounced back before: Post-pardon, he headlined Rolling Loud 2022, inked a Nike deal, and launched the Zachariah McQueen Foundation, named for a slain teen whose story mirrored his own. His July 2025 Pompano key ceremony saw Mayor Rex Hardin praise him as a “remarkable journey from streets to acclaim,” heart intact.
As the dust settles, Kodak’s saga spotlights hip-hop’s fatherhood reckoning—from Drake’s custody filings to Future’s baby mama battles. For Kodak, it’s personal: a call to level up amid the noise. Will this order ground him, or fuel another album’s worth of angst? One thing’s clear— in the rap game, family ties bind tighter than beefs, and Kodak’s just getting started on verse two.
