Houston, We Got a Problem Songtext
von Luke Combs

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

I got new boots covered in red dirt, a "Don't Mess With Texas" t-shirt
And a Lonestar postcard postmarked with "missin' 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 a midnight rodeo
The way them saloon doors swing,
when they line dance to "Copperhead Road"
Some like the lager 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 new boots covered in red dirt, a "Don't Mess With Texas" t-shirt
And a Lonestar postcard postmarked with "missin' 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
We got a problem
We got a problem