Houston, We Got a Problem - Luke Combs

This is my kind of town

This is my kind of place

I wouldn’t mind hanging around

For more than just a couple days

I got a twelfth 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 Lonestar postcard postmarked, I’m 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 a midnight rodeo

The way them saloon doors swing

When they line dance to Copperhead Road

Something about 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 Lonestar postcard postmarked, I’m 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

We got a problem

We got a problem