Alright, here’s your long one — think late-night city beat with a bit of that sly grin under the streetlights.

⸻

(Verse 1)
Big Ben’s hummin’, Thames still rollin’ slow,
London streets got a current underneath they don’t show.
There’s a man on the beat with a weight on his chest,
Task ain’t about the cuffs, it’s about doin’ his best.

Got a whisper in his ear, “Protest’s gonna get hot,”
Not a hero in a cape, but he’s still on the spot.
He walks up cool, eyes sharp, tone steady,
Not to shut a man down — just to make him ready.

(Chorus)
Props to the London cop, holdin’ that line,
Walkin’ in the grey where the rules intertwine.
Warnin’ a brother, “Things might turn rough,”
Ain’t easy when the orders ain’t simple enough.

(Verse 2)
No choir singin’, no medals in sight,
Just a quiet conversation in the half-shadowed light.
Could’ve kept it cold, let the man just fall,
But the uniform spoke and answered the call.

Balancin’ the law with a human handshake,
In a world where one move can be a mistake.
Not every badge shines from the front page glare,
Some of ‘em earn it when nobody’s there.

(Bridge)
Boots on the cobblestones, rain in the air,
Talkin’ through the tension with a real-world care.
Not a saint, not a sinner, just a man on his route,
Keepin’ heads cool when the fire’s about.

(Chorus)
Props to the London cop, holdin’ that line,
Walkin’ in the grey where the rules intertwine.
Warnin’ a brother, “Things might turn rough,”
Ain’t easy when the orders ain’t simple enough.

(Outro)
So raise a pint to the ones in the crowd,
Who keep it low-key, not shoutin’ too loud.
The job ain’t glory, but it’s grit in the gears,
And sometimes the hardest work dissapearz