When you think of Calvin Broadus Jr., you probably picture a cloud of smoke, a vintage lowrider, or maybe his weirdly adorable friendship with Martha Stewart. He's the "Doggy Dogg." The D-O-double-G. He’s the guy who somehow turned a gangsta rap career into a global brand that's basically synonymous with "chill." But honestly? If you ask the man himself, he’ll tell you his biggest gig isn’t the music or the movies. It’s being a dad. Snoop Dogg's fatherhood isn’t just some PR move to soften his image as he gets older; it’s actually the backbone of his entire life, and it’s way more complicated—and structured—than you’d expect from a guy who once beat a murder charge.
He’s got four kids. Corde, Cordell, Cori, and Julian.
People assume growing up as Snoop’s kid is just one big party. It’s not. In fact, he’s been famously strict about certain things, like sports and education. He didn’t want his kids living in his shadow; he wanted them to build their own stuff. You’ve probably seen some of this play out on his old E! reality show, Snoop Dogg's Father Hood, which aired back in the mid-2000s. It was a weird, fascinating look at a man trying to balance being a rap icon with being the guy who yells at his kids for not finishing their homework. It was real. Sometimes it was awkward. But it showed a side of him that the music videos never did.
The Reality of Raising Kids in the Spotlight
It’s tough. Imagine your dad is literally the most famous person in the world for a specific, "not-so-parent-friendly" subculture. Snoop had to navigate that. He wasn’t just a dad; he was a provider who had to maintain a certain persona to keep the lights on in a massive mansion.
He didn't hide his lifestyle, but he didn't let it consume his kids either.
Take his son Cordell, for example. For a long time, the narrative was all about Cordell’s football career. He was a four-star wide receiver, a huge prospect. Snoop was on the sidelines of every game, acting like every other over-invested football dad, just with better jewelry. He even started the Snoop Youth Football League (SYFL) back in 2005. That wasn't just a hobby. It was a legitimate non-profit aimed at keeping inner-city kids off the streets and in the classroom. He used football as a Trojan horse for discipline.
But then, Cordell quit.
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He walked away from a football scholarship at UCLA. For a guy like Snoop, who loves the game, that could have been a breaking point. But it wasn't. He backed his son's decision to pursue film and fashion instead. That’s the nuance of Snoop’s parenting—he pushes hard, but he’s not trying to live vicariously through them. He actually listens.
Breaking the Generational Cycle
Snoop didn't have a perfect blueprint. His own father, Vernell Varnado, was a Vietnam veteran who was largely absent during Snoop’s early childhood. His stepfather played a huge role, but that kind of instability leaves a mark. Snoop decided early on that he was going to be the "present" dad. He wanted to be the guy in the bleachers.
It wasn't always easy. He and his wife, Shante Broadus, have been through the ringer. They almost got divorced in 2004. Snoop actually filed the papers. But they stayed together, largely because of their kids and a renewed commitment to their family unit. They realized that their individual messiness was hurting the collective.
They’ve stayed married for over 25 years. In Hollywood, that’s basically a century.
Cori Broadus and the Fight for Health
If you want to see the real heart of Snoop Dogg's fatherhood, look at his relationship with his daughter, Cori (aka "Choc"). When she was just six years old, she was diagnosed with Lupus. This was a massive turning point for the family. Suddenly, the gold records and the fame didn't matter. They were dealing with a chronic, life-threatening autoimmune disease.
Snoop has credited Cori with saving his marriage.
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The struggle to get her healthy forced him and Shante to communicate and work as a team. He’s been her biggest cheerleader, supporting her music career and being open about the mental health struggles that come with chronic illness. Last year, when Cori suffered a stroke at just 24, the family was right there. No cameras, no fanfare—just a father worried about his daughter.
It's these moments that define him. Not the Super Bowl halftime show. Not the Olympics commentary. It’s the quiet stuff in the hospital rooms or the living room.
The Grandpa Snoop Era
Snoop is a grandfather now. Several times over. He calls himself "Papa Snoop."
Watching him with his grandkids is a trip. He’s even softer with them than he was with his own kids. He’s spoken openly about how being a grandfather has given him a second chance to "do it right" without the pressure of being at the height of his career. He’s more present. He’s less concerned with the hustle and more concerned with the legacy.
- He focuses on emotional intelligence over just "toughness."
- He uses his resources to provide opportunities, but demands effort in return.
- He prioritizes family gatherings, often hosting massive Sunday dinners.
- He’s moved from a "provider" mindset to a "mentor" mindset.
He’s basically become the patriarch of a mini-empire. And he’s doing it with a level of grace that most people wouldn't have predicted back in 1993.
Why His Parenting Style Actually Works
A lot of celebrity kids end up as "nepo babies" who flame out. Snoop’s kids? They’re working.
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Corde is into music and spiritualism. Cordell is a creative director and tech investor. Cori is a singer and entrepreneur. They aren't just sitting around waiting for an allowance. Snoop taught them the value of the "hustle," but a clean version of it. He showed them that your name gets you in the door, but your work keeps you in the room.
He also isn't afraid to be vulnerable. In his 2018 cookbook, From Crook to Cook, he talks about family meals and the importance of sitting down together. It sounds cliché, but for a guy who spent years on tour buses, those domestic moments are sacred.
The Julian Broadus Factor
We should be honest here: it hasn't always been a "perfect" family portrait. Snoop has another son, Julian Broadus, from a relationship outside his marriage. For a long time, Julian was the "secret" son. That's a real, messy human complication. But over the years, there has been a public effort to bridge those gaps. Julian has spoken about his journey to build a relationship with his father, and Snoop has acknowledged the complexities of his past.
Fatherhood isn't always a straight line. Sometimes it’s a jagged, messy path to reconciliation.
Lessons From the Broadus Household
What can we actually learn from how Snoop handles his business at home? First, don't let your job become your identity. Snoop is a "character" he plays for us, but he’s a father for them. Second, support the pivot. When your kid changes their mind about their life path, don't take it as a personal insult.
- Be there. Presence is more valuable than any gift you can buy.
- Listen more than you talk. Even if you’re a world-class lyricist.
- Allow for growth. People change, and your parenting has to change with them.
- Protect the core. Your family is the only thing that stays when the fame fades.
Snoop’s legacy won't just be Doggystyle or The Next Episode. It’ll be the fact that he raised a group of functional, creative, and resilient humans in an environment that usually destroys them.
Next Steps for Your Own Family Legacy:
If you’re looking to apply a bit of that "Snoop energy" to your own life, start by evaluating your "presence" versus your "presents." Are you there for the games and the quiet moments, or are you just providing the bankroll? Take a page out of the SYFL handbook: find a way to mentor your kids through something they love, whether it’s sports, coding, or art. Finally, don't be afraid to show your kids the "real" you—vulnerabilities and all. It builds a level of trust that no amount of discipline can replace.