Happy birthday My Picasso

[Intro - soft, intimate]

September second...
Thirty-three.

I don't know if you realize
how much can change in one year...

But I see you.

And baby...
I hope you see what I see.


[Verse 1]

February thirteen,
that's the day our story found a name,
Didn't know a stranger then
would somehow change my days.

And then that Friday came,
thirteenth again, me and you,
Funny how the universe
kept putting me right next to you.

Then came that loft,
our first real date, just us,
And I remember how you waited,
even when I took too long to show up.

I know, baby,
I know I test your patience sometimes,
You don't have to say a word,
I can read it in your eyes.

But then I finally get there
and everything just melts away.
You look at me, I look at you,
and somehow we're right back in our space.


[Pre-Chorus]

That's the thing about you...
You make a moment feel like home.

And I don't need a perfect life
if I don't have to live it alone.


[Chorus]

You're my Picasso,
the way you paint your life,
Taking every broken color
and making something beautiful out of it.

My Picasso,
I hope you know I see you.
Not just the man you are with me,
but the man you became when life needed you.

You got a heart that keeps on giving
even when you've got your own pain.
Baby, thirty-three years around the sun
and somehow you still shine through the rain.

You're my Picasso...
And I love the way you create.
Happy birthday, baby.
I'm just grateful I got to be a part of your canvas.


[Verse 2 - melodic rap]

Memphis raised you,
Douglas, Chelsea, that's your ground,
Got that city in your spirit,
you can hear it when you talk.

You were living your life,
just you and AI,
Then April came and changed the picture
right before your eyes.

You lost your sister,
and ten children lost their mama,
And somehow in the middle of that heartbreak
you became another kind of father.

Daddy.
Uncle.
Guardian.
Whatever they need you to be.

You didn't just say you loved them,
you showed them what family means.

And that's the part that gets me,
the part I don't always know how to say—
You could've let the weight break you,
but you chose to carry it anyway.

And baby,
I admire that.

I admire your heart.
I admire your strength.
I admire the way you show up
even when life isn't giving you a break.


[Pre-Chorus - softer]

And I know there's probably nights
when you don't know what comes next.

But I hope somebody reminds you
that you don't always have to be strong.

You deserve somebody
who sees the man underneath the responsibility...

And baby,
I see you.


[Chorus]

You're my Picasso,
the way you paint your life,
Taking every broken color
and making something beautiful out of it.

My Picasso,
I hope you know I see you.
Not just the man you are with me,
but the man you became when life needed you.

You got a heart that keeps on giving
even when you've got your own pain.
Baby, thirty-three years around the sun
and somehow you still shine through the rain.

You're my Picasso...
And I love the way you create.

Happy birthday, baby.
I'm just grateful I got to be a part of your canvas.


[Bridge - stripped down, intimate]

And maybe I'm late sometimes...

Okay...
I know I'm late sometimes.

But I'm learning.

Because when it's something that matters,
I don't want you waiting on me forever.

I want to meet you there.

On time.

In the moment.

Right beside you.

Because every time I finally get to you,
I remember why I came.

It's you.

It's always been something about you.


[Final Chorus - full, soaring]

You're my Picasso,
so keep painting, baby, paint.
Let the world see every color
that they tried to wash away.

You're my Picasso,
and your story ain't finished yet.
There's so much more ahead of you
than everything you've been through.

And when those little eyes look up at you,
I hope they know what I know too—
That they're lucky to have you.

And I'm lucky I found you.

February brought me to you,
and September celebrates you.

Thirty-three years...

And baby,
I'm just getting started loving you.


[Outro - whispered over piano]

Happy birthday, my Picasso.

From the girl who takes too long to get ready...

to the man who's always waiting on her.

Thank you for waiting.

Thank you for loving.

Thank you for being you.

September second.
Thirty-three.
My Picasso.