Houston, We Got a Problem Songtext
von Luke Combs

This is my kinda town, this is my kinda place
I wouldn′t mind hanging 'round for more than just a couple days
I got a 12th-floor room with a killer view of the empty Astrodome
A tab at the bar downstairs, but all I can think about is home

I got my new boots covered in red dirt, a "Don′t mess with Texas" T-shirt
And a Lone Star postcard postmarked "Missing you"
It's got the biggest sky you've ever seen, the coldest beer you′d ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon
′Cause it ain't got you
Houston, we got a problem


You should′ve seen 19th Street, you should've seen the midnight rodeo
The way them saloon doors swing when they line danced to "Copperhead Road"
Somethin′ 'bout the air down here that′ll make you feel the way all them cowboys do
I wish I was an outlaw, but all I can think about is you

I got my new boots covered in red dirt, a "Don't mess with Texas" T-shirt
And a Lone Star postcard postmarked "Missing you"
It's got the biggest sky you′ve ever seen, the coldest beer you′d ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon
'Cause it ain′t got you
Houston, we got a problem

It's got the biggest sky you′ve ever seen, the coldest beer you'd ever drink
But I still feel like I landed on the moon
′Cause it ain't got you
Houston, we got a problem
Houston, we got a problem

Houston, we got a problem