What would it mean to feel like a bank? Well, banks are landmark institutions; they’re often cornerstones of the cities they’re in. Banks are reliable – when we say we can bank on something, that means it’s definitely going to happen. Most of all, banks have money. When Paydro tells us that he “Feel Like Da Bank,” he’s not merely bragging that he’s flush. The full-bearded Cincinnati rapper also means that he’s established, and he’s vital and central, and he’s not going anywhere. He’s already shown Southern Ohio how much muscle he can flex. He’s about to extend that influence worldwide.
And he’ll do it like banks do: effortlessly, with authority, conviction, and irresistible force, and, of course, money to burn. Paydro makes the sort of hip-hop that grips the listener like a firm handshake at the conclusion of a business deal. “Feel Like Da Bank” follows on the heels of the thumping “Street Blessings,” a relentless, hard-hitting exercise in fierce, uncompromising rhyme, and his independent hits “MOOD” and “Diamonds,” both of which have racked up tens of thousands of plays on YouTube. Then there’s “Martin And Gina,” a legitimate, sensitive love song he released a few weeks ago that is, somehow, completely consistent with the roughneck stuff he’s made his name on. Taken together, these tracks reveal Paydro to be a complicated thinker, a flexible songwriter, and a formidable vocalist: one whose tracks sound equally appropriate in the club, in the living room, or coming through your car speakers.
To bring “Feel Like Da Bank” alive, he’s joined forces with DreamVision, the Cincinnati production house specializing in incendiary, exciting hip-hop music videos. DreamVision understands hip-hop iconography; more importantly, they understand Paydro, and they’ve shot the rapper in a setting that underscores his charisma. In the clip, Paydro pulls off a bank heist with the casual swagger of the bulletproof. The rapper and his accomplices park their black van outside the Cincinnati Bell building and load it up with purloined cash; soon, he’s rhyming from the backseat as the driver rolls unhurriedly through the rain-washed streets of the city. And what has he left behind? His presence has transformed the institution he’s taken over. The bank vault, now wide open, looks more like a nightclub than a typical financial institution: it’s decorated with green fluorescent light bulbs and populated by dancers wagging stacks of cash. It’s a cheeky commentary on the way that the creativity of hip-hop has always reinvigorated capitalism.
