Few rappers are more plain-spoken about their feelings than Tyler is, and luckily success hasn’t dampened that. He’s still acerbic about his absent father, especially on “Answer,” which marries a plaintive, deceptively vulnerable hook with exceedingly dark, malicious verses. On “Lone” he raps about the death of his grandmother: “The doc said she only had a week for us to speak/before she deceased/’cause cancer was just eating her cheeks up.”

As before though, his candor can veer into uncomfortable, eyebrow-raising territory. “IFHY” is a typical Tyler love song, which is to say it’s hostile and abrasive and unlikely to result in actual love. In it he veers between bliss and threats to a woman he wants and her new man: “Make sure you never meet again like goddamn vegans/’cause when I hear your name I cannot stop cheesing.” The video is deeply unsettling too: Tyler in heavy facial makeup as a doll, moving in mechanical, tenacious fashion as he fixes on the woman he desires.

At the end of this song Pharrell sweetly sings while Tyler whispers morbid death fantasies. For Tyler, the two aren’t so far apart. Given his frequently rough subject matter and scratchy vocal tone, it’s consistently surprising to feel the evident warmth rising off his productions. He’s partial to naïve chords that radiate sunshine, and he still plays keyboards like someone working out melodies he hears in his head on his own.

His crib sheet remains the same: plenty of throbbing synthesizers that could have come from the first N.E.R.D. album, “In Search Of ...,” one of Tyler’s core texts, and also echoes of A Tribe Called Quest and soundtrack jazz of the 1960s. When he gets particularly harsh in his lyrics, as on the title track or “Jamba,” the result is often a striking, and winning, juxtaposition.

The least-remarked-upon aspect of Tyler’s career is his actual rapping, which is better here than it’s ever been, both nimble and witty, even through the unfocused angst of songs like “Tamale.” He still has old enemies in cross hairs, dismissively mentioning the anti-Odd Future protests at the 2011 Pitchfork Music Festival and the singers Tegan & Sara, who took aim at his slur-filled lyrics.

But it’s worth remembering that Tyler is someone who still raps about his bedsheets (“Parking Lot”), who still raps about his first date (“Awkward”), who still raps about riding bikes (“Cowboy”). On Twitter, in between the slurs he deploys with varying degrees of seriousness, he still gets emotional and excited about the power of chords. One song, “Trashwang,” features normally nonrapping Odd Future affiliates rapping, the sort of tossed-off concept a group of teenagers come up with during a late night basement sleepover. And the Odd Future show on Adult Swim, the protean-but-improving “Loiter Squad,” is pure juvenile slapstick, not much more than a few friends, their inside jokes and some cameras to capture it all.

No matter how young Tyler may seem when acting out, it’s this other sort of youth that screams much louder. It’s the sound of someone making footprints in fresh sand, and it’s steadily refreshing. “Take bets on how quick Tyler can reach maturity” he raps on “Jamba” — not anytime soon, let’s hope.