Tyler, the Creator instructs one half of the audience to yell “Fuck that” and the other half to chip in “Golf! Wang!” – the name of his clothing line. As the phrases cannon back and forth, the accompanying lyrics of 2013 single Domo 23 go unnoticed: “So a couple of fags threw a little hissfit ... said I was a racist homophobic.”

As one of the world’s most controversial rappers, Tyler Okonma has gained much attention for lyrical outrage since he emerged with Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All. But while that group’s Frank Ocean and Earl Sweatshirt have edged away from fantasy prose about rape and murder, it’s still unclear whether the 24-year-old is a master satirist-prankster-provocateur or juvenile oaf. At times, he seems to relish contradictions, opening with Bitch Suck Dick but later confessing: “I’m out of my depth. I’m sorry.”

He’s in the position that comedian Bernard Manning ended up in regarding racist jokes: backing down would hand victory to his critics and undermine his probing of what is acceptable in music. However, behind the controversy lies some great music. His gruff delivery is blistering and he has a craftsman’s way with a palette of sounds from thunderclaps to Philly soul. The big shock is that the best songs here are sensitive ones – even love songs, albeit ones couched in less than lovey-dovey language.

While the American’s younger fans predictably find the likes of Yonkers (about stabbing Bruno Mars) or Jamba (supplying drugs to schoolchildren) as funny as cartoon villains, this show’s vibe is fun, not sinister. He affectionately ridicules a man wearing a suit, sprays the crowd with water and indulges in affectionate banter. A question about how many black people are here results in a white hand rising from among his considerable female fanbase, causing more hilarity. “Manchester, I love you,” he declares, and Manchester applauds someone whose principal motivation may not be to provoke, but to entertain.

• At the Roundhouse, London, 14 May. Box office: 0844 482 8008.